


until

by gotchick



Series: unless [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: College AU, Coming of Age, Emotional Constipation, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Passage of time, Slice of Life, Top Jackson, artist mark, cute fluff, mark is actually a mangaka, otaku mark, probably way too many manga references, slowburn, smut in chapter 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:38:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6895828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotchick/pseuds/gotchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jackson had always been jinyoung's best friend, while mark was jinyoung's older brother. (high school au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

17.

Mark met Jackson in his second year of high school.

Technically, he didn't become friends with Jackson, because Jackson was his younger brother Jinyoung's best friend. Since he and his mother had moved from America to Seoul three years ago to live with his step-father and step-brother, he had adapted a lot more to the climate and culture, growing more fluent in Korean and missing home less. Mostly, he had to thank Jinyoung and his best friend Jaebum who he had met in his second year of junior high right after he transferred, and stayed friends with till now, ascending to the same high school. They had accepted Mark so warmly that he never felt lonely.

He had been an only child since birth, and especially after his parents divorced, always longed to have a sibling, preferably a younger brother he could spoil. So when his mother met Jinyoung's father and married him when Mark was nine, it was a dream come true. At eight, Jinyoung was already the ideal _didi_ \-- or _dongsaeng_ as he would teach Mark -- precocious, impressionable and full of charms, a master of _aegyo_. He simply idolized and adored his new big brother, following Mark around and trailing at his heels like a besotted puppy.

Mark loved spending summer vacations with him, when Jinyoung and his father would either fly to California or Mark and his mother would fly to Korea. He liked Korea and he liked Jinyoung and his kindly step-father, so when his mother asked lovingly if he would like to immigrate to Korea and live with them and attend junior high school there, he had replied without hesitation a joyful yes.

And in the past three years, Mark had not regretted his decision. It was an unexpected blessing to meet Jaebum on his first day of junior high. He had never expected to find the best friend he had ever made in his life in Korea.

Even though Jinyoung and Jaebum were both Korean, they never excluded him and at the beginning, tried to make an effort to speak slowly out of consideration for his unpolished Korean. He was grateful that though they obviously had more in common with each other, such as their studiousness, they always made him the centre of attention when the three of them were together, both of them revolving around him like planets around the sun.

But still, he couldn't help feeling less out of place after he met Jackson, because they undeniably had more in common with each other, such as both being Chinese who were better at speaking English.

 

On Jinyoung's first day of high school, the first day of Mark's second year, he was sitting with Jaebum at a bench in the canteen, waiting for his brother. They had already ordered their own food and a plate of Jinyoung's favourite dishes too, so he could tuck in right away when he arrived.

He heard footsteps and looked up to see Jinyoung approaching them breathlessly, looking slightly lost on his first day navigating the school. But he wasn't alone, flanked by two other boys.

"Hyung, Jaebum hyung, these are my new friends, Jackson and Youngjae. Can they sit with us?"

Both boys smiled, the one with smaller eyes shyly, the one with larger ones playfully.

"Guys, meet my brother Mark and his best friend Jaebum hyung," Jinyoung introduced proudly. The cute-looking boy with the eye smile bowed politely, but the other boy just gave them a careless, two-fingered salute before sliding in boldly beside Mark.

"I'm Jackson," he mumbled, sticking out a hand to Mark and practically ignoring Jaebum, whose smile slipped a little. Jackson didn't seem to notice, promptly stealing a fried shrimp from Jinyoung's plate.

Mark quickly took his hand and shook it timidly. Jackson's hand was warm, his smile widening as his fingers closed around Mark's and held on for a few seconds longer than was comfortable.

Mark pulled his hand away forcefully, feeling himself start to blush when Jackson began stroking his fingers. Jackson's huge smile didn't falter as he continued to gaze at Mark curiously, drinking him in.

Mark pretended not to be aware, avoiding his gaze and pushing the plate of rice towards Jinyoung. "Hurry and eat before it gets cold."

"Thanks, hyung!" Jinyoung gushed gratefully, immediately digging in enthusiastically.

Mark smiled. Jinyoung's appreciation always made him enjoy being a big brother.

He looked up, and was surprised to see Jackson still looking at him, but this time his eyes had softened, his smile less cocky and more surprised, a little admiring. As though he had seen something about Mark that he didn't expect, and liked.

 

Even though Jackson was Jinyoung's friend, the first day all of them met, he spent most of the recess asking Mark questions.

One of his first ones was: "You have an English name... does that mean you can speak English?"

Mark nodded with shy pride. "I moved here from America three years ago."

Jackson looked impressed. "English is my most fluent language too," he admitted sheepishly, switching to it and lowering his voice, even though the others didn't understand. "We should talk in it from now on." He winked at Mark conspiratorially.

"Hey!" Jinyoung batted at Jackson's arm, seeming to understand the gist because Mark had taught him a little basics. "Speak... in... Korean," he ordered in his halting, cute English, and Jackson laughed. Mark felt a strange twinge in his chest when Jackson's attention momentarily shifted to him as he pinched Jinyoung's cheek, seeming inordinately comfortable with him already even though they had only met this morning.

From Jinyoung's side, Jaebum was unnaturally silent too, burying his face in his food as he shoveled rice down, but Mark barely noticed as Jackson continued showering him with inquisitive questions. After a while, he, too started asking Jackson questions in return, because he was curious about how long Jackson had been living in Korea, whether he could speak Mandarin too, as well as where he had learnt English. Jackson seemed pleased by his interest.

Even as a guy, he couldn't help noticing that Jackson had an awfully sexy accent when he spoke English, and even his imprecise and choppy Korean sounded good in his low, gravelly voice. He had melting, puppy-dark eyes and the most gorgeous smile Mark had ever seen.

 

He felt bad for not being able to talk much to Youngjae or get to know him better after the initial pleasantries, but he was just so caught up in chatting with Jackson, who was chattering away like a bullet train to Mark as though they were old friends. He too, felt that there was something familiar and comfortable about Jackson, that set him at ease right away. He felt better that Jaebum was engaging Youngjae in conversation, with Jinyoung chiming in occasionally.

 

On the bus too that afternoon, his heart leaped in excitement when Jackson plopped down into the seat beside him heavily, smiling from ear to ear. Jaebum usually sat beside him, but he was too slow today, and looked none too pleased about it as he sank in the seat across the aisle, but Jinyoung quickly sat down beside him. Jinyoung hadn't hesitated to invite Jackson and Youngjae to their house after dismissal to do homework and play video games, because it was kind of a tradition Mark and Jaebum had forged in junior high.

Jackson jostled him into his seat, moving closer and squeezing him against the window as the bus started moving.

"How was your day?" he asked, focusing his eyes intently on Mark and smiling expectantly.

"Good," Mark replied awkwardly, but Jackson beamed as though his bland answer had been perfect.

For the rest of the journey to his house, he felt Jackson's side pressing against his, their elbows brushing when the bus made a turn. Jackson's body was soft and warm.

 

In the days to come, he would discover that his first impression of Jackson wasn't wrong -- he was smooth, gregarious, funny and popular, and remarkably comfortable in his own skin. Mark never saw him without his trademark charming smile draped across his face, his mouth like a motor that was always running on about something. Even though his Korean was as imperfect as Mark's, that never stopped him from talking loudly and unselfconsciously, only laughing and correcting himself when he made mistakes. He was everything Mark wasn't.

 

A few days after they met, he was astonished when Jinyoung told him that Jackson had said he was pretty. He felt a warmth spreading across his cheeks, his heart swelling with an unidentifiable emotion as he blurted out anxiously, without thinking, "What else did he say about me?"

Jinyoung gave him a strange look. "Nothing?"

He quickly remembered himself, but he was so flustered that when Jinyoung asked what he thought about Jackson, it slipped out of his mouth that he had found him manly.

He passionately hoped that Jinyoung would pick this most crucial moment to be a loyal younger brother and not reveal what he had said to Jackson. But in the following days, he found himself unable to help tucking his hair behind his ear when he looked into the mirror, or biting his lips to redden them before he met Jackson at recess in an embarrassingly feminine gesture. It was ridiculous. Next, if he wasn't careful he would find himself putting on lip gloss or a hair ribbon.

He didn't know why he was so affected by Jackson's throwaway remark. It was probably just an observation, and Jackson wasn't even the first person who had said so. Yugyeom and Bambam, Jinyoung's friends in junior high, had also called him that jokingly, but he hadn't given it a second thought because he knew that they were just doing so in a playful and platonic way. But now... why was his stomach in knots when Jackson said the same thing?

Mark had always assumed he was straight, even though he had received confessions before from both boys and girls. He was painfully socially awkward, but people, especially girls, seemed to find him attractive. He had never been interested in any of them enough to reciprocate, but when he had wet dreams or erotic fantasies the people who featured in them had always been female. He had never felt any feelings that were more than platonic for any guy. Till now.

 

"Jackson-ah, do you have a sore throat?" Youngjae asked innocently in concern, and they all looked over. He had noticed too that Jackson had been speaking in an unnaturally deep and husky voice since the start of recess. He had thought it was odd but figured he probably caught a cold, and didn't mind that much because it made Jackson sound especially manly. (It helped that he had rolled up his shirtsleeves conspicuously and kept flexing his arms, showing off his muscular biceps.)

Now, they were all surprised to see Jackson blushing blotchily at Youngjae's question.

"No," he replied awkwardly and shortly in his normal voice, shooting Youngjae a nasty look as though he had put him in a spot. Mark was caught by surprise when Jackson's eyes moved towards him furtively, sneaking a glance. He only flushed a darker red when Mark caught him. They both quickly looked away from each other and down at the table.

Mark coughed nervously and turned to Jaebum to pretend to ask him about something, trying to forget the awkward and baffling encounter.

 

"Mark hyung!" he heard as he was exiting the restroom and about to walk back to class, in a voice that wasn't Jaebum's.

He looked around in confusion, because he didn't really have any close friends in high school beside Jaebum. Their friendship was so exclusive, taking up so much of their time, that they simply didn't have space for anyone else.

He was surprised to see Jackson panting breathlessly down the corridor towards him, because the second-years' and first years' classrooms were on different floors.

Jackson looked sheepish when he arrived at where Mark had stopped to wait for him.

"Hyung," he started hesitantly, "I just wanted to ask... can you help me out with some of my Korean homework after school?"

"Sure," Mark replied immediately, obliging but slightly confused. "You can show it to me when you come over later."

"No..." Jackson looked uncharacteristically flustered and embarrassed. "I meant... can you tutor me one-on-one?"

Mark blinked at him uncertainly. "But... wouldn't it be better to ask Jaebum... or even Jinyoung or Youngjae? My Korean isn't much better than yours." He hated to reject Jackson, but he had to make his level and ability clear or he might be unable to deliver later.

Jackson pouted, seeming unsatisfied by his answer. "But they don't know English," he said finally, after a stilted pause.

Mark bit his lip, realising that he made sense.

"Okay, then, I guess," he said, still a little uncertain, but Jackson immediately lit up, clutching his hands as if Mark had saved his life.

"Thanks, hyung! You're the best!" he gushed, face flushed with gratitude.

Mark blushed too, feeling pleased.

"So... see you after school?" He smiled at Jackson, glancing at his classroom where the next class was starting.

Jackson shook his head quickly. "Can we... meet alone? In the library?" he asked softly, looking up through his eyelashes tentatively. He hadn't let go of Mark's hand.

Mark's eyes widened, not expecting this. He swallowed. "Why?"

"I..." Jackson hedged. "I just think I could concentrate better." He gazed imploring at Mark until Mark found himself mumbling, "Okay..."

He didn't realise he had agreed until Jackson started literally jumping for joy, up and down in excitement.

"See you after school at the library, Mark hyung!" he shouted in the quiet corridor, already running away as though he was worried Mark would take back his promise.

Mark found the stupid grin on his face staying long after Jackson had disappeared.

 

When he passed a note to Jaebum in class to tell him to go home with Jinyoung after school alone, Jaebum turned to look at him from his seat a few rows ahead. He didn't look very happy about it, but Mark found himself looking forward to the study session, counting down the minutes on the clock as dismissal neared.

When the bell rang, he immediately shot out of his seat, swept all his books haphazardly into his bag, and rushed out of the classroom without even saying goodbye to Jaebum. He ran breathlessly all the way up the flights of stairs to the library, but when he arrived, Jackson was already there.

Jackson looked up eagerly from the table he had sat down at in the nearly-deserted library. Everyone was eager to head home or to have fun with their friends after school, and no one but the nerdy geeks stayed behind to check out books. But even though neither of them were nerdy or geeky in any way, Mark found it ironic and amusing that he and Jackson had both rushed to the library so excitedly to study.

Jackson looked far more enthusiastic for a tutoring session too. He halfheartedly opened his bag and slid out his Korean textbooks, but as Mark sat down he immediately started peppering him with his usual questions about his day and chattering about his own day again.

Mark tried to keep him focused on the topic, sternly lecturing him to concentrate and not procrastinate as he tried his best to explain to Jackson the definitions of his Hangul vocabulary list.

After two hours, when the librarian gently tapped their shoulders to tell them she was closing the library, they walked home together. The leaves danced over the asphalt in the late afternoon breeze and Mark found himself smiling as he listened to Jackson's monologue. Everything Jackson said was so interesting to him. He could spend the whole day listening to him.

When they finally arrived at his house, Jackson scuffed his feet against the granite road and looked reluctant to go. Mark also felt unwilling to part, although they had spent recess and the entire afternoon together. Jackson tugged nervously at the strap of his book bag and gave him a small smile, turning to go.

At the last moment, Mark called him back.

Jackson turned, a bright smile on his face. "What is it, hyung?" he asked gently.

Mark smiled back bashfully, lowering his eyes. "Nothing," he mumbled. "I... just wanted to say... that you don't have to call me _hyung_. You can just call me... Mark."

Jackson gazed at him, smile broadening slowly. After a quiet pause, he tried, "Mark."

Mark nodded, both of them beaming giddily at each other. Jackson repeated his name.

"Enough, you'll wear it out," Mark pretended to grumble, and Jackson laughed. His laugh was musical.

 

From then on, Jackson acceded to his wishes. But he didn't stop calling Mark _hyung_ occasionally. And Mark thought that he kind of liked it too. He liked being Jinyoung's hyung, but secretly, he liked being Jackson's hyung more.

 

Sometimes he would forget that they were sitting with three other boys, surrounded by hordes of noisy and garrulous students in the canteen. Everything would fade into white noise, everyone else fading into the background during his conversations with Jackson, because he got so absorbed into them, so absorbed into Jackson's every word and move and breath.

He couldn't help it, because Jackson was just so fascinating, so captivating, so... sparkling. He sparkled like the heroes in the _manga_ s Mark sometimes went to borrow from the little shop which lended out secondhand comics downtown, when he had spare pocket money.

Once, Mark had even found himself sketching Jackson, anime-style, paying attention to his beautifully-lidded and almond-shaped eyes, his refined nose and his cheekbones. His face had been so enjoyable to draw with soft pencil lines. But Mark would never show the drawing to anybody... except maybe... as a present to Jackson on his birthday.

 

Jackson, too, seemed to be quietened by Mark. Their friends joked that the only times Jackson ever stopped talking was when he was listening to Mark. And it was true. Jackson paid attention to few things, but Mark was one of them he bothered to. And he felt proud of this, important. Sometimes Jackson would just look at him, gaze at him silently on the rare occasions when Mark was talking, saying more than three words in a row, as if he wanted to drink everything in and commit every single word Mark said to memory.

Other times, his brow creased slightly as he stared at Mark as if he was a puzzle that stumped Jackson, a mystery he wanted to figure out badly.

"What are you _thinking_?" Jackson would ask Mark, sounding intrigued, and Mark would answer meekly, "Nothing," because it was true; or when he was thinking of something, it was usually something he couldn't say out loud, like how his hands were itching to capture the glint in Jackson's eyes in hazy blunt HB pencil on the creamy white paper of his sketchbook, darkening his boyishly long lashes with 2B.

Jackson would look unsatisfied, as if Mark was withholding the answer from him deliberately to keep him in suspense.

 

There was something thrilling about the mix of awe, respect, informality and impudence with which he addressed Mark, a way no one younger than him had talked to him with since he arrived in Korea. And it made him feel more relaxed, able to breathe a little easier.

 

"Did you remember to feed your hyung his meds before you left the house this morning?" Youngjae joked, shooting Mark an affectionate glance to show that he was just kidding, and Jinyoung snorted out loud.

Mark blushed, and realised everyone was looking at him in amusement like he had grown an extra head. So they had all noticed that he had been unnaturally hyperactive this morning, screeching with high-pitched laughter and even doing an imitation of the maltese he had owned back in America which Jackson had found uproarious. But there was something about Jackson that loosened him up, that made him act wild and reckless and crazy. When he looked at Mark like every word that fell from Mark's mouth was a blessing or a pearl, he felt a little less boring.

"It's all your fault. You're such a bad influence," he chided Jackson, elbowing him, but Jackson only laughed unapologetically and slurped his noodles loudly.

 

"Jackson," Mark whined, and when Jackson didn't look over at him, his tone getting more petulant: "JacksonJacksonJackson~"

Jackson finally turned around to look at him, eyes amused, and Mark flushed heatedly. He quickly caught himself. Why was he clamouring? He was the older one here, damn it. Jackson should be the one fawning over him, trying to impress him and not vice versa. But sometimes Jackson made Mark feel like the ages and roles were reversed, especially when he showed his attractively mature side.

 

Just when Mark thought he could do without Jackson's attention, his constant pestering, Jackson would prove him wrong by chasing after him, sticking to his side with an ingratiating smile and winningly irresistible _aegyo_ , his eyes sparkling. He made up a ton of stupid and gross nicknames for Mark, but Mark's secret favourite was _Markiepoo_. He would buy an armful of snacks and cartons of milk from the vending machine during recess and ply Mark with them, urging him to eat, his eyes tender as he watched Mark sip through the straw and tutted like a mother as he nagged that Mark was too skinny. He would steal bites of food from Mark's plate, then feed Mark from his own, flying the spoon into his open mouth like an airplane to Jaebum's chagrin. He had privately told Mark not to let Jackson forget the informalities too much and climb over his head, because after all Jackson was still their _dongsaeng_.

"Jackson, stop bothering Mark," he would snap, but Jackson would ignore him, eyes flashing defiantly as he retorted sassily, "Mark isn't just your friend, _hyung_."

 

Mark knew that Jinyoung and the others thought he was overly innocent and dense, but he wasn't as oblivious as they assumed. He was aware of the way Jaebum watched him sometimes, had more and more in the last few years. He was conscious that the way the air became thick with unspoken tension between Jackson and Jaebum was related to him, to how they sometimes contended and vied with each other for his attention. He felt bad when Jackson purposely spoke to him in English and their rusty Mandarin, pretending not to see how frustrated Jaebum looked at not being able to understand them, but too proud to ask them to translate.

But because he was too cowardly to think too deeply about what it meant, because he didn't want to face the music as long as Jaebum kept his silence too, and because he felt confused and unsure of his own feelings, he had no choice but to continue playing dumb.

But sometimes, although he felt bad about it, he found himself engaging in friendly flirting with Jaebum, holding on to his arm and acting cute and teasing him. Jaebum would blush and smile, looking surprised but pleased by his playfulness, while Jackson's face would darken in a way that made his heart skip a beat. He felt despicable for trying to test Jackson like that, but he couldn't resist the chance to see Jackson's mask slip off and reveal his emotions transparently for one minute. Jackson was so straightforward and blunt about everything else, but surprisingly cautious and wary about displaying his innermost affections.

 

One hot summer afternoon, they were playing the game they had recently started to again. The four of them were at Jinyoung and Mark's house after school, sitting on the floor and snacking on juicy and sweet watermelon, and Mark had been provocatively licking his slice, then running his tongue over his lips when he felt Jackson's gaze drawn to them.

Jackson's eyes followed his actions silently, but with intense hunger. Suddenly, without warning, Jackson claimed he had spilled some juice on his shirt and promptly whipped it off.

Mark swallowed his saliva nervously as his eyes snapped towards Jackson's bare torso, the shocking definition of his muscles. it was the first time he had seen Jackson topless and his abs were no joke.

He could read the glint in Jackson's eyes like a book. _Mark, 0. Jackson, 1_. He flushed hotly because this was true.

He forced himself to rip his eyes away from Jackson's body, even though he just wanted to stare at it all day, till he memorized every single contour of Jackson's torso enough to be able to replicate it on paper.

But Jackson seemed unhappy when his eyes flickered away, redoubling his efforts to get Mark's attention by pouncing on him with seemingly harmless laughter but a determined glint in his eye only Mark saw and trying to force him to take off his shirt too.

The feeling of being pinned down by Jackson's bare body, his heated skin was almost too much to bear. Mark squirmed and struggled uselessly in his strong grasp, breathing heavily. They rolled around for a while in half-playful and half-flirtatious wrestling, Mark trying to avoid Jackson's knees coming into contact with his crotch which had tightened in a way that made him wholeheartedly thankful for their baggy uniform pants. Jackson's eyes widened at his feverish cheeks and stricken eyes, actions turning so clumsy he accidentally tugged at Mark's collar too roughly and popped his top button.

Jackson's eyes immediately flickered down to the glimpse of his chest it revealed, darkening. He hungrily feasted his eyes for a brief second before he hurried to cover it up, eyes narrowing as he looked up, straight at JB who Mark only then barely realised was staring at them too.

The momentary lock of the three of their eyes was broken by Jinyoung calling Jackson's name. Jackson looked as confused as he felt as he turned his head to look at Jinyoung, who was looking pale and sweating, from the weather Mark assumed.

"Come here," Jinyoung patted the space beside him and ordered with uncharacteristic blitheness.

Jackson's brow creased in incomprehension and unwillingness, but he reluctantly loosened his fingers over the fabric of Mark's shirt and got unsteadily to his feet. Mark sat up shakily too, holding his collar closed with his heart still pounding in his dry throat.

Jackson sat down beside Jinyoung obediently, not looking at him, and Mark couldn't help shooting Jinyoung an uncharitable and unbrotherly look for his untimely interruption.

 

He was in the kitchen later on, clearing away the plates of watermelon husks and brooding over the way Jackson had unhesitatingly obeyed Jinyoung and immediately trotted over to his side when he called. He had almost forgotten that after all, Jackson was still Jinyoung's best friend and not his. He had met and befriended Jinyoung first, and his allegiance was towards him. But Mark had thought that if he wasn't a better friend to Jackson than his brother, he was at least equally important.

What was he to Jackson? How did Jackson see him? he found himself wondering.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps, and looked up in surprise to see Jackson standing in the doorway of the kitchen, breathing hard. His chest was heaving visibly, and his shoulders looked so broad that they took up the narrow doorway.

"Mark --" he started, sounding pained and frustrated, and Mark's heart leapt into his throat.

He quickly said, "The others aren't here."

Jackson looked grimly satisfied by this information, slipping in.

"Good. I wanted to get you alone," he said in a low voice.

Mark didn't back away as Jackson advanced towards him slowly, although he wanted to. He reminded himself that he was older, that Jackson was just a childish brat. But for some reason, the boy stepping closer to him looked anything but childish or immature. He looked confident and powerful, breathtakingly so.

Mark continued busying himself with his task, moving unsteadily towards the fridge with the plate of remaining fruit and reached a hand out to pull the door open. But at that very moment, Jackson's hand landed on the fridge too, holding it firmly closed so Mark couldn't open it.

He turned around with dread to find Jackson's face alarmingly close, so near Mark could feel his quick breaths on his skin. When he tried to move away, Jackson placed his other hand on the fridge beside Mark's shoulder too so Mark was imprisoned between his arms.

Mark froze and slid the plate onto the counter beside the fridge before his trembling hands dropped it.

"Mark, I..." Jackson started, voice cracking. He flushed with embarrassment and looked down as if unable to meet Mark's questioning eyes.

"I need to ask you something," Jackson said softly, and Mark felt himself nodding with trepidation.

Mark stared into Jackson's anguished face, his tightly set jaw. He was startled by Jackson's next words.

"Do you like anyone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is the markson side story, the third and final installment of this series no one asked for but i just felt like writing bc i have so many feels for this verse ;; also because i felt bad there wasn't much markson in the jjp part (tbh i just wanted an excuse to write top!jackson and bottom!mark bc i haven't written it in more than a year). dedicated to my favourite markson stan cass as well as all the wonderful people who commented on both chapters so far, i was so flattered to see literally all the comments on chapter 2 about lagoon i didn't know this fic was so loved T.T thank you so much to everyone who loves this verse as much as me and reads both parts of the series!


	2. Chapter 2

18.

Seventeen reminded Mark of the uninterrupted, breathlessly blue afternoon sky he saw on his way home with Jackson after their Korean tutoring sessions, only broken up by occasional slender electrical lines. It reminded him of the dappled sunshine playing across Jackson's brilliant grin when Mark cracked one of his lame jokes, one sun on another. And the way their shadows lengthened the later they lingered outside, dragging their feet as their conversation flowed unceasingly, reluctant to part, even only till the next day.

But most of all, it reminded him of the sugary sweet scent of ripe watermelon juice, mingled with the faint heady musk of Jackson's perspiration; the mind-addling and brain-melting summer heat; and that nondescript but unforgettable afternoon Jackson had trapped him against the refrigerator in his kitchen and asked Mark that loaded question.

If only, Mark had thought countless times since then, with more than a little wistfulness, he had replied bravely and recklessly then: _Yes. You_.

But he hadn't. He couldn't bring himself to.

The only thing he had managed to do, caged between Jackson's masculinely muscled arms back then, was to nod mutely like a pathetically stupefied mouse.

Jackson's eyes had darkened immediately. They were closer than they had ever been, practically one breath apart Mark couldn't help noticing -- at most two. Up close, Jackson was even more dizzyingly gorgeous than he had realised, his flawless skin dusted with a pretty flush.

It made Mark's knees buckle.

Jackson's voice had changed when he spoke again, deepened. He sounded both urgent and somehow wary as he asked in a hushed tone, "Who?"

Mark felt his Adam's apple bob thickly in his throat as he swallowed once, twice. He couldn't meet Jackson's eyes straight on, so he briskly swept his lashes over his own gaze.

He opened his mouth, not knowing what he was about to answer, when Jackson moved forward and their chests brushed. Mark's mind promptly short-circuited.

In a flash, on sheer instinct, he had squirmed out from Jackson's uncomfortable embrace. He had always been more athletic and agile than he looked and Jackson blinked at the empty space between his arms where Mark had been, looking dazed and frustrated.

He budged more easily than Mark had expected when he shoved Jackson hard, stumbling a little. He seemed shaken. Almost as shaken as Mark whose heart was pounding deafeningly in his ears as he grabbed the plate of leftover melon and opened the fridge, sliding it in unsteadily. He steadfastly continued refusing to meet Jackson's searching eyes.

But Jackson grabbed his arm just as Mark closed the fridge and was turning to leave, trying to make his escape dodging the question. No such luck.

"Is it someone I know?" Jackson pressed, but this time he sounded pleading.

The only thing Mark could do was jerk his chin down in an excruciatingly awkward nod as his cheeks burned and he shook off Jackson's grasp more resolutely, this time managing to slink out of the kitchen in time.

 

It was only later that night, lying sleepless in bed with the sweat-damp covers thrown off his knees, that he realised with a dry gulp that Jackson would probably have thought he meant Jaebum.

The possibility made him break into silent panic. Knowing that he had more than a little to do with their increasingly frosty relations of late, he would never have deliberately misled Jackson into thinking that he had any more than platonic feelings for Jaebum. It had been fun to playfully observe their reactions when he was closer to one or the other, but somehow this had turned serious in a way that made cold sweat run down his back. It wasn't funny anymore, just cruel.

He approached the table where the five of them converged at recess the next day with faint eyebags and a carefully guarded expression, having spent a fraction of the night obssessing over this issue and only finally being able to doze off in the early morning.

He had wondered how Jackson would act after the incident, if he would be awkward or even not turn up at all, so something in him heaved a small sigh of relief when he saw Jackson's familiar profile inhaling a sleeve of french fries hungrily. Every time, his handsome silhouette still made Mark's heart skip a ridiculous beat.

 

To his immense relief, albeit tinged with an ambiguous disappointment, Jackson seemed to do as he wished and forget the previous day's stilted encounter, looking up with his usual goofy grin and shifting a little on the bench to make space for Mark to sit down beside him without stopping his ongoing squabble with Youngjae.

Mark slid into his usual place with more awareness than usual. It was only then that he realised how accustomed he had become to this proximity. Less than a year ago, he didn't even know of the existence of a person named Jackson Wang. Now, they were less than an arm's length away daily, a distance they had both grown so used to they no longer noticed it the way one isn't conscious of breathing. It was unimaginable how fate worked sometimes.

Jackson offered him a fry, staring at Mark with that speculative look he was familiar with, when Jackson was trying to figure him out. He always looked so quietly but intensely curious, so certain that Mark was thinking thoughts more profound and interesting than he actually was. And Mark couldn't bear to correct him.

He parted his lips and carefully took the fry from between Jackson's fingers between his teeth, then self-consciously closed his mouth when Jackson's lips curved up in a faint pleased smile.

He was hoping no one noticed the way his cheeks warmed up, but the look on Jaebum's face as Mark caught him watching silently made the chewed-up potato lodge like cardboard in his throat.

 

Since Jackson had apparently forgotten the incident and didn't make any assumptions about the identity of Mark's crush, he tried to put it out of his mind too. Thankfully Jackson didn't seem to have jumped to the conclusion he feared, and his relations with Jaebum didn't worsen because of it but they didn't seem to improve either.

However, occasionally Mark still wondered, like the time Jackson asked casually if he had noticed that Jinyoung and Jaebum were growing closer. His tone was offhand, his eyes careless, but there was something about the tenseness of his shoulders that made Mark's throat dry up. It suddenly felt like Jackson was asking a different question entirely, testing him somehow.

He swallowed and replied after a pause, "Uh... yeah." He tried to keep his tone as non-committal as Jackson's, but his gaze wavered as Jackson's eyes flickered up to meet his, probing silently as he continued deliberately, "Jinyoung told me they meet alone at Jaebum's part-time job often." His eyes seemed to be watchfully studying Mark's reaction.

"Oh," Mark said, with all of his trademark eloquence. Jackson seemed disappointed by his reaction, or lack of it, but Mark was relieved he hadn't managed to read anything from his inscrutably blank face. In fact, he hadn't known about Jinyoung and Jaebum's private meetings, because Jinyoung had only sheepishly told him that he was running errands for their mother when he left the house late for his midnight sojourns. Mark had wondered how many groceries he could possibly have been assigned to buy when he took hours to return; so this explained it. He couldn't help noticing that Jinyoung had a little bit of a hyung-crush on Jaebum, growing steadily in the past few years.

 

So life went on uneventfully for a while. With Jaebum, he entered his third year of high school, celebrating _Chuseok_ with his new buddies and family -- a Korean tradition he hadn't even known of till he immigrated here. Jackson, Jinyoung and Youngjae became second-years. But Mark felt contented, because he had never much liked excitement. He was satisfied with spending time with Jackson and their circle of close-knit friends daily, both at recess and after school. Jackson never singled him out to spend time alone again either, other than their unofficial tutoring sessions at the library once a week after school, but even then they mostly only studied and talked about their other friends and inane topics.

Spending time with Jackson was comfortable, mindless, like slipping into a favourite worn-out sweater.

 

One Tuesday afternoon, he wasn't surprised to see Jackson waiting breathlessly after school for him at the library, still panting slightly as if he had run all the way there the moment the bell rang, just like Mark. But he was surprised to see him not seated at their usual table but standing by the entrance checking his watch impatiently.

He walked up and cleared his throat, feeling oddly shy standing next to Jackson because they usually met when either of them were already sitting down. Because of his buffness and overflowing masculinity, Jackson's mere presence had the tendency of feeling like a physical blow.

"Hyung!" The address slipped from his lips easily as he looked up at Mark's footsteps and a delighted grin overtook his face.

Mark couldn't help relaxing and smiling back, his pleasure contagious. "Why didn't you wait for me inside? Is our table taken?"

"Nope." Jackson shook his head, beaming like he had a secret. "Hyung..." he started in a cutely whiny voice. Mark was starting to clue in to the fact that Jackson only called him this when he wanted to get something.

He sighed, though not unobligingly. "What?" He pretended to sound gruff, but Jackson grinned from ear to ear and slickly grabbed on to his shoulder, hanging off it and tugging at his sleeve.

"Can we play hooky today?" he said with a well-timed pout.

 

Five minutes later, Mark was feeling that sense of incredulous bewilderment that always spun his head when Jackson roped him into doing crazy and senseless stuff that he would not usually be caught dead doing. Like now, as Jackson lifted the bottom of the wire-gauze fence that surrounded the deserted football field at the back of their school, and looked encouragingly down at him from the outside where he had already crawled.

Mark scrunched up his nose as he caught another whiff of mud from the stains on his white uniform shirt he had gotten when they slid down the grassy slope towards the bottom of the fence. His mother was going to chew him out when he got home.

"Remind me why we're going to all this trouble again when school's over and we could just _walk out_ ," he panted disbelievingly. Sometimes no one understood what went on in Jackson's head, not even him.

Jackson's eyes only sparkled more. "Because it's not proper hooky if you don't sneak out!" he explained patiently. "Come on, Markie. Don't be a chicken."

"I'm not chicken!" Mark squeaked, sounding ironically like one as he protested and wriggled out with difficulty through the small opening Jackson had created for him, trying to disguise the spike of pleasure in his stomach at Jackson's casual unthinking nickname as indignation.

"Prove it," Jackson winked at him as Mark got unsteadily to his feet and Jackson's hands patted stray grass blades off his uniform. Mark tried not to shiver.

He made a disdainful noise and set off ahead without waiting for Jackson, but smiled as he promptly caught up. Mark turned fondly. "Where are we going?"

Jackson giggled. "Um... I hadn't planned so far ahead yet. Any ideas?"

 

Another five minutes of walking later and that sense of _What the hell am I doing?_ struck Mark again as he struggled to clamber up a high stone wall even taller than they were as Jackson supportively heaved him up from underneath. His hands spread firmly on Mark's ass weren't exactly helpful to Mark with concentrating on this tricky task.

He looked down at Jackson, whose face was reddened and ruddy from exertion. His bangs fell into his eyes and his hands being occupied by Mark's ass, he flipped them out impatiently with a toss of his head that made Mark's feet slip precariously on his shoulders.

"It's too high," he whimpered, or more accurately croaked as he gingerly lowered himself back down on Jackson's broad shoulders and they both swayed. "Can't we just find another place to sit down?"

"No," Jackson shot back stubbornly. Once he had set his mind on something, he seldom gave up till he attained it. But his hands on Mark's rear end were gentle and strong, reassuring. He had insisted on Mark climbing onto his shoulders instead of the other way round because Mark was "lighter" and he was "stronger", a claim Mark heatedly refuted till he relented and changed his reason to Mark being more "flexible", whatever that meant. Mark had retorted, "What would _you_ know about my flexibility?" and Jackson had sputtered and grown so pink that he took pity on him and agreed with a long-suffering eye-roll.

Now, his knuckles whitened on the stone ledge as Jackson shifted his position on his shoulders slightly, tightening his grip on Mark's thighs. "Can you just pull yourself up with upper-body strength or something?"

Mark squawked indignantly. "How much upper-body strength do you think I have exactly?" His head swam precariously as he looked down again at the ground and how far he had to fall. He wobbled on Jackson's shoulders but Jackson steaded him in time with a steely grasp on his waist. His fingertips seared Mark's hipbones through the filmy fabric of his uniform.

"Are you okay?" Jackson peered up shakily from between his legs, his face pale, and Mark's mind reeled again. His crotch nudged the back of Jackson's head and -- he really needed to stop this train of thought or his body would be overly honest.

He tore his stricken eyes away and nodded speechlessly, fingers of one tense hand involuntarily threading through Jackson's hair. Jackson seemed to relent, starting to crouch to lower him back to the ground, but then Mark set his resolve and grit his teeth, scrabbling to grab on to the ledge and finally hauling himself up with a graceless grunt. He could be as obdurate as Jackson when he wanted to be.

He rolled over to look down. Jackson was gazing up at him in dumbstruck awe, shading his eyes where the sun hit them. "Damn," Mark heard him mutter in admiration.

"Oh my god," Mark shrieked just as a thought occurred to him. It seemed to strike Jackson at the same time as he slapped his forehead in exasperation.

"How are _you_ going to get up?" Mark demanded, peering over the ledge on his hands and knees.

 

Somehow, some way -- don't ask -- Mark managed to dig his feet into the earth and pull Jackson up holding his hands as Jackson attempted to find footholds on the cracked brick wall like he was rock-climbing. They lay sprawled on their backs after the ordeal, knocked out by the energy they had expended. Their pants overlapped. (As in breaths, not the ones they wore on their legs. Though... he might not mind those overlapping too.)

But it turned out that Jackson had been right. The view from the top, when they eventually managed to catch their breaths and sit up... it was worth it.

Or maybe it was seeing it next to Jackson that was.

 

Somehow, Mark found himself in the middle of his first heart-to-heart conversation in his life.

This was a very refreshing and unique experience to Mark, because he had never been good at expressing his _emotions_. Growing up, he had had the necessary maternal conversations with his mother, and lately he was getting used to solicitous ones with his step-father. But this was the first time he had ever truly opened himself up to another person, just letting the words leave his mouth and flow out into the space between them without filtering them through his mind first.

It started when Jackson asked, sounding more serious than he usually did: "Do you miss America?"

Truthfully Mark was more moved than startled, because it sounded like Jackson had wondered about this question for a long time. It floored and warmed his heart inexpressibly that Jackson spent time of his own -- just thinking about Mark's well-being, whether he was happy here in Korea.

The way Mark occasionally wondered about Jackson.

Maybe that explained why he was a little more articulate than usual when he replied honestly, "Mm-hmm. But I don't regret coming here."

He crossed his fingers behind his back and hoped Jackson wouldn't ask why, because then Mark would have to lie.

Because he couldn't imagine saying, "Because I met you."

That sounded too close to a confession for his liking.

Thankfully, Jackson didn't ask. Instead, he looked relieved and slightly pleased, as if he had been worried Mark would even entertain the notion of replying _Yes, I want to go back_.

"So..." he went on, voice smaller so Mark had to strain to hear. A cautiously hopeful light flickered in his eyes. "Are you going to leave Korea after we graduate from high school?"

The question bumped in Mark's heart like an animal in a cage as he abruptly realised that with all his convoluted and more frequent ruminations lately, he had never once considered that Jackson might be going back to Hong Kong for college. It was only now that Jackson voiced out their plans for the future that the possibility occurred to him.

"N-no," he breathed, heart suddenly racing. "What about you?" The words tumbled out in a rush.

In the grip of his own eyes, Jackson's softened with unmistakable relief and pleasure. He shook his head, lips pressed together in a suppressed smile.

"That's... great," Mark rambled lamely, his heart stuttering back to its normal speed. He seemed to be blabbering more than usual this afternoon. In contrast, Jackson was effortlessly enigmatic as he only continued smiling and nodded.

The head rush made Mark's lips continue to loosen, his tongue trip to catch up with his soaring heart. "Maybe... we could go to the same university."

The pathetically audible hope in his voice made him wince, but Jackson inhaled sharply in barely-contained excitement.

"I would _love_ that," he said enthusiastically, eyes deadly serious as he sat up on his elbows. "Promise?" Mark's eyes widened when he stuck out his pinky finger in an unexpectedly childish gesture, but Jackson's eyes were beseeching.

His own finger shook as he tentatively extended it, hooking their pinkies together in the universal body language of a promise, stamped, sealed and signed.

It felt, absurdly, like two hearts locking together.

 

It was a day of firsts. The first time he played hooky. The first time he had felt so high, both literally and figuratively, as they sat side by side on the wall they had scaled with their determination and swung their legs with carefree abandon. The first time he revealed so much of himself to somebody, exposing the vulnerable unprotected expanse under his shell. And the first time he saw Jackson behind the chinks in his armour.

He felt this way when they were lying side by side on the grass and Jackson turned away from him to stare straight up at the sun, not even squinting as if challenging it to sear his vision away.

"Do you ever feel," he mused softly, eyes clouded, "alone, even when you're surrounded by people?"

Mark squinted at him, even though he wasn't looking at the sun. He thought about Jackson's question. Somehow, he understood that feeling. He had many people who cared for him, and whom he cared for. But had he ever really felt truly close to anyone... besides... except...

Jackson turned just as his name flashed through Mark's mind silently and their gazes locked for a millisecond. Mark blinked rapidly.

He cleared his throat nervously and replied vaguely, "Yeah." But his voice still sounded hoarse.

He couldn't put into words how it was inconceivable to him that Jackson would feel this way too. Because he was perpetually so self-assured, so in command and certain of himself, always moving forward without looking back. Everywhere he went people flocked to him like moths, everyone he met he melted with his irresistible charms. But Mark guessed he shouldn't be surprised. Ultimately, despite how superhuman he looked and acted... Jackson was merely a human being like him after all.

 _When you're by my side_ , Mark wanted to say with unabashed cheesiness, _everything seems possible_. Because it was true. Jackson never saw the risks in life, barreling through them as if they were invisible. Just like this wall they were sitting on top of now -- it had never occurred to Mark to want to climb it in all the times he had bypassed it alone, much less that it was possible. But Jackson had shown him that -- together -- it was. Where others saw an insurmountable challenge, Jackson only saw possibility.

And naturally, that was what he had come to symbolize to Mark.

Jackson didn't look disappointed by the lack of interestingness in his answer. He never did.

He was the only one that Mark didn't have to _try_ with. Maybe that was why he ventured bravely, "Do you often feel that way?"

The surprise and softness in Jackson's expressive eyes made him want to try more. Jackson made him want to venture out of his comfort zones, the circle he had remained in all his life. He made Mark want to open the door and step out into the beautiful, bright world.

"Once in a while," Jackson smiled, sweetly. "But not now. Not... when I'm with you." His eyes glimmered with unsaid words and affection.

"Then... when you feel like that... call me. Come find me. Anytime." The earnest note in his own voice made Mark's face flame. Jackson's eyes glinted with something that looked uncomfortably like tears.

"Okay," he replied, voice thick.

"I'm here," Mark continued babbling, the floodgates in his throat seeming to have broken. He had no idea what he was saying, but he couldn't stop. "For you. I'm just..." he caught his breath, unable to find the next word, then finished with epic lameness, "Here."

"Thanks," Jackson said, blinking his red-rimmed eyes. His lashes caught the light, glistening. On the verge of tears, he was the most breathtaking sight Mark had ever seen. He looked stunned by Mark's imperativeness, his intensity. "Mark..." Jackson covered his hand abruptly, seeming to want to express something. "Really... I'm so happy..." he struggled with his words "-- so lucky to have you in my life."

When Mark flipped his palm over, Jackson's was clammy against his, but warm. He was both surprised and unsurprised to discover that the contours of their hands aligned together seamlessly like slipping into a custom-made glove.

 

It was the first time he felt the sensation of butterflies in his stomach. He had heard of the metaphor before, read it in books, but thought it was merely that -- a metaphor. He had never imagined that it was an actual physical sensation that existed, the feeling of butterflies fluttering around the cage of his stomach, their wings brushing the bars as they flitted to escape.

Unexpectedly, it was when he asked Jackson about his ideal type. In front of their other friends, he would never dare to voice out such a bold question, worrying he would sound unnaturally inquisitive, but Jackson was uncalculating and easygoing in a way that made him feel safe and free to ask random and even weird questions.

Indeed, when Mark blurted out his query, he didn't think twice about it, and promptly narrowed his eyes in the way he did when he was seriously considering a topic.

Mark had fully expected him to reply as a typical, hormonal teenage boy would. When he had imagined Jackson's ideal type in the past, he always pictured it to be someone feminine and curvy, buxom and bold. Someone brilliant and eye-catching like fireworks, charismatic and confident.

Someone like Jackson.

Both in school and outside, he had seen enough hot girls check Jackson out, and Jackson sometimes eye them back discreetly, to know that it wasn't a stretch to say that he could have anyone he set his heart on.

If Mark were a girl, he felt a conviction that he would be interested in Jackson himself -- interested enough to take the initiative and pursue him, and that was extraordinary because even as a boy, Mark _never_ made the first move.

So naturally, he was surprised to hear Jackson finally reply: "I might not look like it... but I actually like the quiet type. I mean, opposites attract, right? It would be boring to have a relationship with someone too similar to me; it would probably feel like dating myself."

Mark smirked and couldn't resist interjecting, "I didn't think you'd mind dating yourself..."

Jackson elbowed him hard but without malice, and went on, "Someone small... huggable... not too tall." He blushed good-naturedly at Mark's brazen laugh. "Someone shy... but not boring, who also knows how to let loose and have fun. Someone who has a lot of layers, like an onion. Someone a little mysterious... just because. Mysteries are exciting to solve."

"Someone cute, obviously." Mark hadn't known Jackson had dimples, but he did, when he smiled with a certain impishness.

"But most importantly... someone whose heart is warm." When Mark raised his eyes, Jackson was looking straight at him, unblinking.

That was when the butterflies started. When Jackson was gazing soulfully at him and it struck Mark that he could basically fit all of Jackson's criteria. That Jackson's list had been gender-neutral, not even once using the word _she_ or _her_.

That Mark's hopes were shooting dangerously up, and he wasn't even sure what he was hoping for.

He was just wishing for something really desperately, for the first time in his eighteen years.

He was overwhelmed with breathless desire.

 

"What about yours?" Jackson asked, voice gentle.

 

It was true. There was really no appropriate way to say: _My ideal type is you_.

 

Hours later, when the first hues of twilight were setting in, Jackson lifted him with the same gentleness down from the ledge effortlessly. It wasn't fair, Mark thought moodily, how Jackson was so much stronger and more charming and smoother and more handsome and more -- _everything_ \-- than him, even though he was older. He made Mark want to be jealous, but he was just awestruck.

He brooded on this dilemma all the way home, so absorbed in himself that he didn't even notice the way Jackson sneaked glances at him, the silent and frustrated longing in his eyes catching the moonlight sorrowfully.

 

He didn't know when exactly -- but sometime in the nearly two years since they had met, it had started to sting when Jackson called him _bro_ and _dude_.

It didn't make sense because Jackson called everyone that. He called Jinyoung, Youngjae and even Jaebum that. So he wasn't treating Mark any differently from the rest of their friends.

The problem lay with him. It lay with the fact that he wanted Jackson to treat him differently.

He wanted to be special.

 

Just when he had talked himself into losing hope, not hurting any longer and bearing the terms of brotherly and platonic address with blaseness, one day Jackson would look at him in a way that made all his painstakingly built defenses crumble, in a way that made his heart skip a longing beat and his stomach lurch with confusion because he would just be being himself, goofing off and messing around with their other friends for one rare moment that he had managed to forget Jackson and then he would turn and see Jackson looking at him, silently stricken, like all he wanted was to jump across the table and pounce on Mark, and Mark would freeze and think, _Oh_.

When Jackson looked like that, something almost like reproachfulness in his large, mournful eyes even though he never said a word; when Mark sat down next to Jaebum instead of him or picked Youngjae's proferred drink over his or something trivial and petty like that and he turned away with that bitter, sour look on his face and fell silent; when he would for no reason at all gaze at Mark with a pained and tortured look on his face and unfathomable emotion burning from his eyes, Mark would feel his head hurt physically from the bewilderment.

It wasn't just that Jackson was a guy; that he was off-limits simply because he was Mark's little brother's best friend. That Mark had to remember he was no longer living in laidback America but more conservative Asia. It wasn't just that friends didn't feel like kissing friends.

It was that they had both friend-zoned each other so strictly, become such perfect bros that Mark couldn't imagine them any other way. He couldn't imagine changing their relationship and the dynamic they had built up, no matter how much Jackson had taught him about how worthwhile it could be to take risks, how rewarding.

It was the only risk he would never take, because he couldn't risk losing. The only question he would never utter, because he couldn't take no for an answer. The only secret he would ever keep sealed in his heart, for fear that if he let it out it would shatter.

 

Jackson was so vocal and outspoken about everything he felt. He never minced his words or sugarcoated his bluntness, never felt the need to censor anything he wanted to say. So despite the lingering looks and ambiguous glances, the longer he kept quiet and continued treating Mark as a friend, the firmer Mark grew in his conviction that that was all Jackson saw him as.

And that was fine. It was fine when Jackson very verbally checked out the cute girls and hot babes they passed, whistling with unconcealed admiration. It was even fine when he tried to get Mark to join in. It was fine that he flirted with everyone, and their mothers too. It was fine that he tried -- and succeeded -- to steal the attention of every girl who attempted to hit on Mark, as if he couldn't stand not being the spotlight for one moment. It was fine when he tried to kiss Jinyoung and wrestled Youngjae into armlocks and teased Jaebum till his eyes were lost in his laughter.

It was all totally and completely fine. And when Mark went for the school dental check-up and the dentist remarked with concern that the enamel of his teeth was a little worn down probably from constant or chronic gritting and grinding, it had absolutely nothing to do with Jackson at all.

 

Most importantly, he didn't speak up because he didn't want to ruin the fragile dynamic of their group of friends. The five of them would only be together for a maximum of two years. That was such a pitiably short span of time, not nearly long enough. And with Jaebum's longtime possessiveness over him, it would most certainly crack the porcelain of this tightly-knit group of friends which had unconsciously become so precious and irreplaceable to Mark. And if he hurt Jaebum in any way... he didn't even want to know what would become of his relationship with his brother.

In short, knowing nothing would be the same if he voiced out his burgeoning feelings, it just seemed easier to stay in the same stationary place. Everything was so tenuous, most of all his relationship with Jackson. It seemed paradoxically like the closer they drew, the more breakable the thread between them seemed.

Jackson had been right, after all. He was a chicken.

 

So he tried to draw the lines between them, even when it seemed too late, even when he felt like he was scrawling in sand -- the moment he had traced the stroke, it was washed away by an all-eroding wave. He tried to establish boundaries where there had been none, even when he felt like he could no longer separate where he ended and Jackson began.

At times like this, because he was out of control and insecure, because he was angry at how Jackson shook him up and wanted to make him as shaken, he would grasp at straws, desperately summoning up all the differences he could think of between them, all the ways in which they were oil and water.

He would magnify the one-year age gap between them as he shook his head affecting superiority and told Jackson disdainfully and scornfully to grow up.

At these times, Jackson's eyes would flash dangerously with frustration. He had complained many times about being younger, and Mark knew that one of his preternaturally unsatisfied wishes was that he could be in the same year as Mark and Jaebum. Coming to Korea with their strict hyung-dongsaeng system that hadn't existed back in Hong Kong for him only emphasized the difference in their ages.

Because it was his sore spot, Jackson would retaliate in a sarcastic tone, "Okay, _hyung_ ," with overly exaggerated respect and deference, but there was nothing respectful about the gleam of impunity in his eyes.

 

And yet, after these exchanges, despite the fact that he had successfully reminded Jackson that he was a year younger than Mark, Mark never felt fulfilled, sometimes even frustrated.

Because the truth was that this distance between them was unwanted and unwillingly created.

Everything about Jackson was so genuine. There was nothing fake about him, and with him there was never a moment in which Mark was unauthentic. And so he hated himself for forcing himself to be dishonest, going against his true feelings, retreating back behind the mirrors and smokescreens Jackson had taught him to leave in the dust, because there was so much freedom and exhilarating release in being true to oneself. Jackson was so transparent that Mark could see his own dark, shadowy reflection in his unclouded and unrelenting eyes, and it shamed him more than anything else.

 

It was after one of these periodic incidents which were growing more and more frequent recently as the mounting tension between them made Mark unsure whether to blow hot or cold, softening and hardening with a sporadicness that made even himself dizzy. Sometimes he just felt helpless against a force greater than himself because it felt like the more vehemently he tried to push Jackson away, the closer they ended up drawing, uncontrollably and inescapably. Jackson was like a road Mark refused to take but always mysteriously found himself stepping down; a dream which he had forbidden himself but continued finding and haunting him.

Jinyoung and Youngjae appeared alone at their table one recess, the absence between them so gaping and conspicuous that even though Mark had pinched his lips studiedly shut, Jaebum was the one who enquired curiously, "Where's Jackson?"

Jinyoung looked up from his food, lips turning down sadly. "He went to the sick bay."

Mark hadn't heard himself gasp till all their heads swiveled towards him, baffled by his overreaction. He coloured blotchily but the food in his mouth turned to cardboard as he leaned forward to demand, "He's sick?"

Jinyoung took a beat slower to answer than he had Jaebum, occupied with his food, but Youngjae dutifully responded. "No, hyung, don't worry. He just fell during PE and got a scrape."

Mark made a conscious effort not to inhale sharply at this information. At least, not audibly. Jaebum didn't even bother to stop eating and give him the irritated looks he had used to by now; he -- all of them -- had grown so used to Mark's concern for Jackson.

"I'm... going back to class first," he mumbled shiftily, scraping the rest of his food into his mouth in one gulp. Jaebum nodded absently, and Jinyoung echoed Youngjae's reassurance not to worry, as if he knew where Mark was really headed and could see through his transparent excuse.

Honestly, they probably all could. Mark didn't even know why he had bothered to lie, but he had just felt embarrassed to stand up with a loud clatter of his bench across the ground the moment Jinyoung had told him Jackson was at the infirmary, and literally proceed to dash all the way there. It felt like this action was revealing something exposed and raw and unsightly about himself.

But at that moment, all he cared about was how fast he could get to the sick bay in the next building. Running across the courtyard and pushing through clumps of meandering students with whispered apologies, he abruptly realised that he should have bought a snack to bring along as Jackson would probably be feeling hungry. But it was too late and he was too abashed to head back to the canteen to get one, so he just stopped by at a vending machine along the corridor to purchase a can of green tea. They didn't have the fancy organic brand that Jackson liked, but he didn't think Jackson would mind. Then he continued on his brisk trot, his heartbeat picking up in sync with his footsteps as he neared the open door of the sick bay.

Almost two years had gone by, but it seemed like when it was towards Jackson, he was always running. He had always been proud to be a laidback, calm kind of guy, but when it came to Jackson, he seriously had zero chill.

 

Mark slowed his steps as he neared and took a deep breath, then stuck his head round the door and peeked in. Relief flooded him to see Jackson indeed in the room, lying on one of the beds with his back towards the door, the curtain half-drawn. He seemed to be in one piece and healthy enough, at least to have fallen asleep.

Mark was looming awkwardly over him, feeling like a creep for watching Jackson sleep without his knowledge with avid eyes, and debating whether to shake him awake gently or just leave. It had been a while since they had interacted alone; their Korean tutoring sessions for the last few weeks having been cancelled because either Mark or Jackson texted each other at the last minute to say they were busy. (He had lied after Jackson called the previous week off because he worried he didn't want to see him.)

Now, he had finally decided on the safer and more cowardly option -- to go back to his classroom since he had ensured Jackson's safety -- and was quietly placing the can of green tea on the bedside table with no note. Hopefully Jackson wouldn't have an inkling that he had visited when he woke up.

He was turning to leave reluctantly, heart heavy and buoyed at the same time just by their missed proximity, when a hand grabbed his so suddenly he jumped. He spun around to see Jackson blinking awake sleepily, looking adorably groggy. His hair was all tousled from the pillow and his eyes were hooded.

"Mark?" he whispered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and clumsily getting into a sitting position. He winced as he bent his legs and Mark's eyes flew down to see an angry red gash on his right knee.

His dismay must have shown on his face because Jackson quickly said, "It's not as bad as it looks! It doesn't even hurt anymore." He smiled reassuringly at Mark.

"I just came here to get a nap because I could, really." His voice grew braggy as he stretched his arms with smug satisfaction. "Why are you here though?"

Mark blushed painfully. He eased his hand discreetly out of Jackson's. "Jinyoung told me you got hurt and I just... dropped by on my way back to class to check on you for a minute." He shoved his hands in his pockets, affecting nonchalance.

Jackson frowned. "Aren't the classrooms in the next building?"

"I... I have Chemistry next period!" Mark fibbed desperately, sweating. He was a terrible liar. "I'm going to the lab."

"Oh." Jackson's eyes cleared, but he looked disappointed. The bell signalling the end of recess promptly rang with ironic timing.

Jackson quirked an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to head for class?"

Mark cleared his throat guiltily, and didn't reply, instead questioning, "Why haven't you taken care of the wound yet?"

Jackson blushed slightly and shrugged. "The nurse wasn't around, and I fell asleep waiting... I'll do it now." He got off the bed and limped towards the trolley of bandages and other medical supplies.

"Wait!" Mark blurted out. Jackson stopped in his tracks, confused. Mark quickly strode towards him and steered him back to the bed with his hands on his shoulders.

"Sit down," he said gently. "Let me help you."

"Don't you have to get to Chem?" Jackson looked so puzzled and concerned that Mark felt a pang of pity.

He evaded the question again and muttered, "It doesn't matter. I don't mind being a little late. Let's get you patched up first."

Jackson looked reluctant, but he obediently sat back down, watching Mark as he wheeled the trolley over and sat down on the bedside chair, facing Jackson.

Jackson hadn't changed out of his PE uniform, so he was still in his gym shirt which smelt faintly of sweat, but not in an unappealing way, and shorts. The white socks slipping down his ankles over scruffy canvas shoes made him look younger than usual, schoolboyish. Sitting meekly before Mark with his surprisingly knobbly knees, he looked his mere seventeen years in a way that made Mark ache with protectiveness.

 

"You're so nice, Mark," Jackson mumbled so softly Mark almost missed it as he carefully bent over Jackson's knee and disinfected it with cotton wipes, then applied a bandage.

His words made Mark look up to find them unnervingly close, Jackson's eyes unfocused and glazed over as he looked down at Mark, indecipherably dark. They both jerked away at the same time as their eyes locked with each other, Mark's hand falling from Jackson's leg.

"I'm not," Mark muttered curtly as he busied himself with arranging the roll of bandages and antiseptic bottle back on the trolley to hide the tremor of his fingers. He didn't dare to touch Jackson again because he was done with the dressing and no longer had any pretense to. Jackson's words pierced and embarrassed him deeply.

Jackson was studying his handiwork, looking grateful. "Yes you are," he insisted, looking up and gazing at Mark steadily. "You're an angel."

The simple but sincere words, in Jackson's deep and intimate voice, made something stir deep inside Mark. Jackson's tone was mild but stern, brooking no argument. He seemed genuinely convinced of this, to believe it unquestionably.

It was inconceivable to Mark that Jackson couldn't plainly see how hypocritical he was, pretending to be kind and caring just because he wanted Jackson to like him. To find him likable. When really he was as self-centered as any other person, and he only cared because it was Jackson. Because he cared about everything related to Jackson. He couldn't see how gutless Mark was, always hiding -- from Jackson; from himself.

But maybe it was precisely this quality of Jackson's -- this inability to see anything but the good and praiseworthy qualities within Mark, that made Mark so happy being around him.

All his anxieties that Jackson didn't want to see him seemed ludicrous now, far-fetched, when Jackson was looking up at him so trustingly and smiling a wordless thank you with his crinkly eyes.

 

"Will you be busy this week too?" Jackson asked in a small, hopeful voice that made Mark's heart go out to him.

He shook his head, words failing him. "Will you?" he managed.

A heartfelt smile lit up Jackson's demeanor. "Me neither," he said shyly. "I missed you...r Korean lessons." He coughed and cast his lashes down, veiling his eyes and blushed in that way which could only be called _pretty_.

"Me too." His skin was starting to crawl from the sappiness level of their conversation, but he couldn't help replying. The way Jackson's face shone was reward enough.

"I'm sorry for being difficult and wilful... and disrespectful," Jackson blurted out, apropos to nothing.

Mark glanced up sharply, finding his eyes which looked ashamed. He quickly shook his head vigorously. "No, you didn't do anything wrong!"

Jackson looked up at him with a half-smile, and made a face. "Stop doing that," he groaned.

"Doing what?" Mark said blankly.

"Making me feel like a brat," he complained with half-hearted snark.

"What'd I do?" Mark gaped, feeling wronged.

Jackson laughed. "Nothing. It's just... the way you are. You're so mature and I..." He looked down again, toying with the hem of his shorts.

Mark felt a jab of guilt. "It was my fault," he said more firmly. "I shouldn't have acted so stuck-up and condescending. It's only natural you got angry."

"I was angry... because it's true. You _are_ so much more grown-up than me." He shrugged, but it obviously bothered him.

 _If you only knew_ , Mark thought. That inside, he had never once felt a single eon wiser than or senior to Jackson.

 

He cleared his throat in the silence that fell. He wanted to reach out to touch Jackson, but didn't have the nerve to.

"I gotta go," he murmured instead, and turned briskly to leave because it suddenly seemed important that he be the first to.

"Okay," he heard Jackson say behind him, voice cavalier. "Thanks, bro. See ya later."

He was thankful not to be facing Jackson because after that conversation the insouciant  _bro_ made him flinch, then feel inexplicably angry so he didn't respond and continued walking.

But at the door, something made him stop and turn back. His heart missed a startled beat to find Jackson gazing forlornly at him with a hungry glint in his eyes. He swiftly looked down when Mark caught him, ears reddening.

"I... I bought a green tea for you," Mark tripped over his words, gesturing awkwardly to the bedside table. "Rest a bit longer if your hurt still knees... I mean knees still hurt. And Gaga..." The nickname that he seldom, but was the only one to, addressed Jackson with slipped out so naturally it was unconscious. Jackson looked as stunned by it as him. "Be more careful," Mark finished, his face boiling as he tore his eyes away without waiting for Jackson's answer and fled.

 

And so it seemed like they had made up. Even though thinking back, Mark wasn't exactly sure what the conflict had been in the first place. Probably, he had just made up a non-existent reason to disagree with Jackson. And failed miserably because even if he had a million excuses to, he would never, at any point in time, feel like not being friends with Jackson. And he was more glad than he could admit that they had met in the middle.

All in all, eighteen was a memorable year for Mark, frustrating in many ways but somehow satisfying overall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is for baizee, BubblesofColours, kaeypop, Sugarbowl and all the other sweet readers who commented on both parts of this verse as well as my latest fic too; and every single one of the subscribers of this fic: i'm sorry this update is so late but thank you for showing interest in this fic, waiting so patiently and having faith that i would finish it! i realise that the narrative voice of this chapter sounds a little different from chapter 1 but because of the long time between them, i found it difficult to capture the exact same tone... although probably not everyone will see this, i just wanted to express somewhere how very thankful and incredibly grateful i am towards every single comment i have received on all my fics. i read and treasure each and every one, but i've been irresponsible with my replies and always assuming commenters would know how i felt without me saying it, which is no excuse not to reply every one individually as they deserve for taking the time to leave me such encouraging comments but even though anything i could say would fall short of what my commenters deserve i just wanted to say something here... and obviously, thank you the most to you who's reading this right now :) the last chapter will definitely be posted much sooner than this one!


	3. Chapter 3

19.

Somewhere along the way, he had made his way through all the volumes of shounen, seinen and even horror and psychological sections of manga in the little store he liked to frequent tucked into a cozy nook downtown. The owner had grown to recognize his face and called out a friendly greeting when he walked in, which Mark always nodded back awkwardly to before shuffling off to browse, blushing. The owner was a Japanese girl about his age, maybe slightly younger, but definitely still a teenager so he guessed she didn't actually own the store but only worked there, maybe part-time for her parents. If he were a braver guy, he would have struck up a conversation with her to satisfy his curiosity, but even if he didn't have feelings for Jackson now, he wouldn't have dared to approach such a pretty girl although she always smiled warmly at him.

Thus, he could only rely on his powers of conjecture to surmise that she was perhaps sisters with the other two girls he saw less frequently but on other days he had dropped by minding the store, also Japanese. Their name tags read Momo, Mina and Sana, and they spoke adorably halting Japanese-accented Korean with girlish animelike mannerisms and tinkling laughter which was no doubt what drew the hordes of fellow male students from other schools to their shop every afternoon, and also what made Mark interested to chat them up like the other boys who attempted and failed, miserably but buoyed by their gracious and bashfully shy rejections.

Not because he found them _moe_ (he had started using random Japanese words in his thoughts, a sure sign he was consuming too much manga and anime) but because he felt an inexplicable affinity with them, presuming he identified with their status as a foreigner in Korea. He wondered if they could tell he wasn't Korean too and felt the same bond with him, but Momo and Sana, the more outgoing two of the trio, had started setting aside genres of newly-arrived mangas they thought he would enjoy based on his taste and rental preferences, even though he didn't make reservations unlike other people.

He always thanked them profusely, stumbling over his Korean which made them giggle. Mina whispered in her timid way to Sana and he caught the word _kawaii_ , which made his cheeks redden. The girls seemed to find him immensely entertaining and amusing and gave him a discount on the already brand-new stack of the latest ongoing volume he was following avidly, still wafting with the aroma of fresh paper and ink.

 

"Hey, where did you get that?" Youngjae asked, snatching the book Mark couldn't tear his eyes off even in the fast food restaurant they were all squashed in at a table, half sitting on each others' laps but enjoying the proximity. It was just so engrossing and thrilling that he had been reading it till his eyes hurt. It was one of the rare times all seven of them had arranged a group outing, which usually only happened about once every few months. He met with Jinyoung, Jaebum and Jackson more often, since his step-brother and best friend had gotten closer.

He was glad to be able to see Jaebum regularly although they had moved up to different colleges, and was surprised by how much more he had missed him than he had expected. Without Jaebum in his class, he felt off-kilter, more uncertain, self-conscious without a close friend to ease his awkwardness and pass notes to him during lessons.

But as he had confided in Jackson, he'd felt it was important for him to become independent, to prove to himself if no one else that he was able to be in a school in Korea by himself, without his best friend to lean and rely on. He had taken plenty of comfort in Jaebum's presence throughout the last few years, but he wanted to find out if he could venture out of his comfort zone and stand on his own two feet. After all, no matter how willing Jaebum was, Mark couldn't stick to his and Jinyoung's side forever.

Mostly though, he made the decision to enter his current university because of the reputation of the prestigious art course which he had chosen for his major, with Jackson's enthusiastic encouragement and support. And merely two months into the first semester, Mark knew he had made the right decision. He was gladdened to see Jaebum seeming to enjoy his studies in his new university as well, and successfully making new friends. He had been slightly worried for him, to be honest, because although Jaebum was confident and bold, he hadn't seemed to have many friends outside of their clique in high school.

He, too, had made a number more friends than in high school with his improved social skills and nearly fluent command of Korean. But none even came near to how close he was to Jaebum and Jackson, although he no longer saw them every day. He guessed that high school friendships lasted the longest; that it was true high school friends were forever after all.

 

He was snatched back to the present, their rowdy table at the fast food restaurant by Yugyeom's bony elbow and gangly frame jostling him as Bambam unabashedly stole a handful of Mark's fries and stuffed them into his mouth while Youngjae continued flipping through the pages of his brand-new book, bending the spine a little.

"Hey!" Mark protested softly at both of them, and Jackson immediately moved his sleeve of fries out of Bambam's reach from beside Mark, like his trusty manservant. "Don't crease the pages," Mark admonished Youngjae, whose eyes were bulging as he reluctantly handed it back under Jackson's glare.

"Can you pretty please loan it to me when you're done, hyung?" Youngjae pouted cutely. "I've been waiting for it at Twice for ages and I heard there was a months-long waiting list; I had no idea you were at the top!"

"Uh..." This probably wasn't the right time to mention he hadn't even been on the list. He hadn't known the girls had let him skip ahead of so many customers, he must really be a VIP regular.

He had no idea he had said the last thought out loud until the table fell silent and he blinked to see them all staring at him, Jinyoung nearly falling into Jaebum's lap with how forward he was leaning.

" _Girls?_ " Bambam trilled in high-pitched excitement, as if this was the first time Mark had ever shown interest in the female species. Actually, maybe it was.

"VIP regular?" Jinyoung said slowly at the same time as Jaebum looked faintly amused beside him, gaze moving from him to Jackson. When Mark followed its direction to Jackson's face, he saw Jackson's bright and easy grin slipping, dimming a watt. His heart clutched.

He could still feel Jinyoung's eyes sharp on both of them, and wished not for the first time that his brother wasn't so shrewd, especially in matters of the heart. But he didn't look over, eyes remaining riveted on Jackson, waiting for his next words.

He didn't realise he was holding his breath until Jackson's smile returned again, wider than before, grabbing a bunch of fries out of Mark's sleeve entitledly, and spoke with his mouth full, not caring about the mushed up potato he revealed on his tongue.

"I really like reading manga too, hyung." He placed a hand on his heart dramatically, mock injured. "Why didn't you take me along to the store?"

 

The next time he went to the rental store in the afternoon after school, Jackson insisted on coming along. Mark was blushing; he was already nervous about how he would explain to whichever of the girls was in today that he would be late for the first time in returning not just one book but the whole volume because he hadn't been able to resist Youngjae's pleading and had lent it to him. He hoped they wouldn't have a bad impression of him as a customer because of this.

"You look worried," Jackson teased, bringing him out of his reverie. He was matching his pace to Mark's, his long loping strides at Mark's side lazy and lithe in a way that quickened Mark's heartbeat. He tried to blame it on the exercise.

"How did you know?" Mark smiled, thinking how wonderful it was to have somebody able to read his every emotion like a book even without him verbalizing it.

Jackson smirked, lopsided. "Because you're frowning." Without any affectation, he reached out and touched the slight creases on Mark's brow lightly, smoothing them out with gentleness. Mark felt his eyes fly open wide and tried to control his reaction, not to recoil.

"Ah..."

"Worried about returning the mangas late?" Jackson guessed in his easy drawl, not displaying any hint of minding Mark's lack of response as usual.

"Mm, kinda," Mark mumbled reticently.

"Relax, man. I'll help you explain." Jackson sealed his promise with a reassuring smile.

 

And he kept it. Mark could only hang his mouth open, flabbergasted as he watched Jackson chat Momo and Mina up, the first boy to successfully do so in all of history he might add. He might have been proud of his dongsaeng had he not been feeling so jealous. Jackson smoothly sweet-talked them into smiles and laughter with a charming mixture of Korean and Japanese (Mark slightly resented the fact that Jackson told them first, sounding impressively worldly, that he had picked some conversational Japanese up during his brief stint as an exchange student in Nagoya; he somehow felt a weird possessiveness over being the first to know any fact or trivia about Jackson's life).

Of course, they didn't mind at all that Mark had loaned the volume to one of their friends. In fact, he could keep it for as long as he wanted, and enjoy it slowly. Jackson promptly fired a pleased text to Youngjae, who replied immediately with an excited and grateful string of emojis.

Jackson laughed out loud. "He's a little too happy about this." He showed them a selfie Youngjae had sent him of him slobbering over a questionably suggestive page in the manga. Momo and Mina tittered on cue, Momo squealing, "Kawaii!" again.

"I'll tell him not to get drool on it and give him your number at the same time." Jackson winked at her and seemed to find it hilarious when she blushed hotly and hit his bicep in outrage. Mark hoped he wasn't huffing outwardly -- Jackson seldom flirted with girls at school but maybe that was because he hadn't found someone who attracted him enough to flaunt his obviously skilled prowess. He wouldn't put it past Jackson to slyly get Momo's number in the guise of asking for Youngjae.

Before his thoughts could further run wild, Mina tapped his shoulder and said in her soft-spoken voice that she didn't know Mark was friends with Youngjae as they were both regulars the girls recognized by sight but not name but had never come in together.

Mark smiled; it was impossible not to soften at Mina's shy, earnest eye smile. He explained that he had been surprised to find out that Youngjae visited the shop too and that they had never seen each other since he came in so often, but had arranged to make a trip here together sometime. He also introduced himself and pinkened when Mina shyly called him Mark oppa for the first time.

"He comes by mostly on weekends," Mina explained, which made sense since Mark had spent his last few weekends with Jackson, sometimes with his brother and Jaebum too but mostly alone with just the two of them. It had been as subtle and natural as breathing, the two of them starting to spend more time together that he hadn't even realized himself until it occurred to him at this moment.

It was at this point that Jackson interrupted their conversation, his eyes keen on Mark's face and snapping him out of his thoughtful rumination. The conflicted expression remained on Jackson's face until they exited the shop, even though he had just as smoothly lied to the girls that they were sorry not to be able to stay longer but had somewhere else to be, huge smile never faltering. Mark had blinked at him but assumed Jackson was saying it because he had plans to take Mark somewhere, as he often did to surprise Mark. The girls awww-ed in disappointment but said that of course they didn't mind, as long as Mark brought Jackson along again the next time he came.

Jackson waved his phone at Momo suggestively as they left, the doorchimes tinkling, and Mark couldn't guess whether that meant she had given him her number for Youngjae while he was talking to Mina. He thought of the funny and random texts Jackson sent him almost every night, at the most unexpected times and found himself wishing he wouldn't send them to Momo too, although she was a cute and nice girl and there was no reason Jackson wouldn't be interested in her like all the other boys.

 

"Well, you heard them." Jackson looked pleased as punch as he pocketed his phone after they left the little shop. It was usually quieter at the times he visited because he deliberately picked the less packed times to drop by so he could browse in peace and take his time to choose. Today, although there were only a few other browsers in the shop besides them, Jackson's loud voice in his broken Japanese which was just as seductive as his Korean had filled the space with liveliness. Mark wasn't sure whether he liked it; Twice had always been his hideout, his secret happy place. But he had gladly shared all his other haunts with Jackson -- maybe he didn't want to admit to himself that this wasn't the real reason.

"You'll take me along again the next time, won't you?" Jackson looked over at him uncertainly, from the corner of his eyes, and Mark caught a glimpse of that uncertain look still in them, despite the smug smile on his lips.

"If you want," he replied noncommittally, and Jackson turned to gaze at him, studying him closely.

"Do you not want me to go?" he asked softly, after a moment. "Were you... jealous I stole their attention?"

Mark felt like he had been slapped at the word _jealous_. How could Jackson read him so accurately? It was unsettling, felt like his emotions had been stripped and exposed.

How could he reply that Jackson was right, as usual -- he _was_ jealous, but not for the reason Jackson thought?

So he just shook his head vehemently, flushing in silent mortification. Jackson was still gazing at him penetratingly and he felt like he had to say something to take the heat of his eyes off.

"It's just... I'm kind of an _otaku_." He realized that he had unwittingly let slip another Japanese word, this time in his speech, and blushed deeper. As in everything, his Japanese wasn't as good as Jackson's. "I don't know if everyone would understand that," he finished lamely.

His words confused even himself but instead Jackson nodded like he made total sense. "I know what you mean. But Mark..." A hint of his usual gentleness entered Jackson's eyes as he shyly took Mark's hand and laced their fingers together. Jackson's fingers were unexpectedly cold, not warm like they were when Mark usually touched them. An expression slipped into his mind, unaccountably: _cold hands, warm heart_.

"I'm not everyone. It's me," Jackson finished softly, eyes crinkling as he swung their conjoined hands a little.

"I'll understand everything about you. I _want to_ understand everything about you," Jackson babbled earnestly, the sweetest spots of pink appearing on his cheekbones, a moment before he almost immediately groaned and muttered, "God, that's so cheesy. I can't believe I just said that. Erase, delete!"

He waved his hands before Mark's eyes, detaching their fingers as if he could wipe the words from Mark's memory so easily. But even if Mark wanted to forget them, he knew he would never be able to.

 

When they arrived outside the house where Mark and Jinyoung lived, Jackson scuffed his sneakers against the asphalt reluctantly and handed the bag of new mangas he had loaned today to Mark. There seemed to be something Jackson had wanted to spit out since they left the shop but hadn't, and Mark wanted to ask if he wanted to come in for a drink but the abrupt awkwardness and tension in the air between them stopped him.

Jackson still had that tentative glimmer in his eyes, so obvious not only because of how full of brimming confidence he usually was but also because of how well Mark had grown to know him. Jackson was usually so straightforward, direct, not hesitating to voice whatever he was thinking. Mark wondered what -- or who? -- could make him so tongue-tied and apprehensive?

"I know you said the person you like is someone I know... but -- ugh, this is gonna sound so crazy -- is it Mina?"

Jackson said the last three words in a rush, his eyes wide. His face was flushed, a little sweat beading on his temples. The flash of that something in his eyes was starker than ever.

Mark swallowed, mind racing wildly to join the dots. He had thought the misunderstanding Jackson had about Jaebum was over, but he hadn't known his careless words from more than a year ago were still on Jackson's mind. Instead, he dumbly stammered, evasively:

"H-how do you know... I still like that person? And what... why would you say that?"

His voice came out unnaturally shrill and he cleared his throat self-consciously, lowering his gaze from Jackson's intensity when he was unable to meet it.

He didn't dare to raise his head in the silence that followed but Jackson's voice sounded more serious and sombre when he replied.

"I just guessed. You were looking at her some kinda way right before we left... like, wistfully, you know? Never mind, forget it..." He seemed to be embarrassed and regretting his question.

Wistfully? The word startled Mark. He tried to remember why he might have been looking that way, and it struck him like a thunderbolt that it must have been right when he was thinking of how much time he had been spending together with Jackson lately. But he could hardly say that.

"Momo told me she draws too. And she's so shy and quiet. So she's like the female version of you, huh?" Jackson laughed lightly, but there was a hollow quality. Mark's mind raced to wrap around the realization that Jackson hadn't been hitting on Momo while he talked to Mina but talking about Mina.

"Opposites attract." He didn't know he was going to say that until it slipped out of his mouth, sounding jarring and out of place in the conversation. Mark promptly blushed, wondering why the hell the expression had slipped from his loose lips.

Jackson blinked at him too, looking slightly confused and startled but then a glint of comprehension dawned in his eyes -- a glint of... hope.

Mark didn't even want to think of what that could possibly mean as he pivoted, still blushing furiously and scuttled into his house quickly with only a muttered goodbye.

 

Again, he only realized he had left Jackson's question unanswered again later that night when he was replaying the conversation in his mind before he fell asleep. As he lingered on Jackson's enigmatic expressions, trying to dissect each and every one as if watching a movie frame by frame in slow motion, Mark's last thought as he drifted asleep was a pang as he hoped Jackson wouldn't misinterpret his confusing words again.

But just like the previous occasion, Jackson didn't seem to show any signs of having taken to heart or even remembered Mark's words the next day. He did text Mark a few times the next few days to ask if he was going back to the shop, and Mark replied shortly, a little disgruntled and ungracious that Jackson's usual texts which were focused on asking him about his day at school had changed in subject.

He waited for Jackson outside his school the next day, brightening spontaneously when he heard Jackson's unmistakable voice drifting out of the school gates even before he saw him but then feeling the urge to hide behind a tree, his face heating up when he predictably spotted his younger brother next to him. He was glad to see Jinyoung and even came to pick him up after school sometimes when his classes ended early, but he felt somehow shifty to be seen by his brother meeting privately with Jackson, although it was just to go to the manga store and Jinyoung knew they met on their own.

Sure enough, although he tried to keep up a stoic face as they approached, Jackson bounding in big leaps like an energizer bunny, Jinyoung eyed the two arms Jackson immediately possessively slung over Mark's shoulders, wrapping them around his chest and laughed the laugh he always did before he got on Mark's nerves.

"You didn't tell me you were picking Jackson up today, hyung," Jinyoung said sweetly, the phrase "picking up" sounding inexplicably meaningful in his remark.

"Nah, uh... I just dropped by to get him on my way to the store because he kept pestering me to." Mark felt briefly guilty for his choice of words at the way Jackson's face fell but felt slightly panicked at the knowing smile on his brother's face. Not for the first time, he really hoped his brother wouldn't discuss him too much with Jackson.

"Well, I would come with you guys --" Jinyoung practically cackled at the way both their faces fell at the same time in reaction to his words, "-- but mom told me to get some groceries on the way home. Enjoy your date!" Jinyoung looked as if the way their faces both glowed magenta at his deliberately pronounced last three words had completely made his day.

As he pranced away, whistling cheerfully, Jackson huffed irritably, not afraid to show his annoyance even though Mark was Jinyoung's family. "Ignore him." He ushered Mark in the direction of the bus stop going downtown. "He's just getting back at me for teasing him about _his_ convenience store dates with Jaebum hyung."

Right. Mark remembered what Jackson had told him about Jinyoung frequenting Jaebum's workplace though it was out of the way and there were far closer and bigger supermarkets stocked with more groceries. He mentally filed away the information for ammunition or mere teasing material. He had seriously never been initiated to the pleasures of teasing until he acquired a younger brother so ripe for jibing.

 

When Sana handed him the new bunch of books they had reserved for him this time, he nearly choked. He hurriedly shoved the one on top into his bag with light speed and gymnast-level reflexes, and shot Jackson a panicked glance to see if he had noticed the title and cover picture. He heaved a sigh of relief, forgetting to be jealous for once to see Jackson laying his charm thick on Sana, who looked positively bowled over and was immediately calling him oppa.

Having gone through most of the other genres stocked in the shop, and even the doujinishis, Korean manhwas and Chinese manhuas -- and only because of that, Mark insisted to himself -- he had started reading shounen ai and yaoi recently. The three shopkeepers were very supportive of his interest, plying him with recommendations as they complained that "far too few guys appreciate boys love".

Well, appreciate boys love Mark did. At least in private. He would be too embarrassed to face the world if anyone ever saw how he devoured the graphic mangas in private, filled with poses and dialogue that made his whole body blush. He told himself that his curiosity was healthy, reassuring himself that he wasn't the only boy who read these genres. Indeed, he was just one of legions.

He hastily snapped out of his train of frantic thought and tuned into Sana and Jackson's conversation, eavesdropping intently not only because he wanted to detect if Jackson was flirting but also because he was suddenly alarmed by the possibility of Sana bringing up his yaoi reading to Jackson.

 

He felt like he had run a marathon when they left the shop, his shirt soaked with a thin sheen of sweat despite the air-conditioning. His limbs were weak and rubbery with relief. But when Jackson surveyed him closely -- which he always did -- he seemed concerned.

"You look pale." He squinted at Mark the way he did at worksheets when he was trying to solve a problem or concentrating particularly hard, which made Mark squirm more.

"N-no," he lied, trying desperately to think of a way to change the topic. "I'm just... excited about joining the competition." He flapped the scoop neck of his shirt to cool himself down, unintentionally distracting Jackson by flashing a glimpse down his front.

Jackson's face softened at his words, moving his slightly dazed gaze back up to above Mark's neck and struggling not to let it stray south again. Before they left, Sana had seemed to remember something and turned to grab a flyer from a file in the shelf behind her. "Mina asked me to give you this. She knows you draw too and set this aside for you when she got the invitation to participate in it."

"T-thank you." Mark had scanned the flyer rapidly, heart fluttering with excitement. "How does she know I draw, though?" he asked absently, then realized he had asked an awkward question when Sana stammered and blushed herself.

"I... I'm not sure. I guess she saw you carrying your sketchbook sometimes." She shrugged.

Jackson was looking at him speculatively, his eyes unfathomable when Mark tried to decipher if he still thought Mark liked Mina.

"You're awfully popular," he commented cryptically, and Mark flushed as Sana laughed obliviously at his seemingly playful joke, as he was the only one who knew that Jackson was thinking of Jaebum too. Not that he assumed Mina had a crush on him just because of the friendly gesture, she probably just wanted to help him out as a fellow artist.

He quickly bowed to Sana to ease the awkwardness he had caused and told her profusely to thank Mina for her kind thoughtfulness. Sana smiled sweetly and said she sure would, but he could thank her personally again the next time he popped in. She even gave him the days Mina would be working alone, which made Jackson raise his eyebrows and laugh and Mark blush again.

 

Now, Jackson drew him back to the present with his eager and innocent question: "Who will you draw?" The criteria for the competition stated on the flyer had been to sketch and colour portrait-style a manga character of one's own creation. The winner would be given a chance to develop the story for this character in a series serialized in one of the most widely-read monthly magazines in Japan. Entries from overseas applicants were welcome too. It truly was a very exciting opportunity.

Mark looked up at Jackson. His next breath caught in his throat, and when he expelled it it had turned into a breathless, hushed, taboo word.

"You."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry this update took so long when i said on the last chapter that my readers wouldnt have to wait long for the next, so i really want to thank all the 68 subscribers of this fic (yes i dont mind revealing the number lol because i really do treasure and appreciate each and every one of them for showing interest in this verse and waiting so, so patiently :)) honestly i had almost decided to abandon this fic because i felt uninspired and that i had lost my grasp of this verse after so long and i didn't have the confidence of being able to match the timeline in parallel to the jjp side story and i legit lost all the notes i had made for my planned plot outline but in the end it was unexpectedly an extremely lovely thoughtful reader and also an amazingly gifted artist who left me a wonderful comment on tea lights telling me she had made a [graphic](http://24jb.tumblr.com/post/156864255925/youre-the-most-important-person-in-the-world-to) for it and wanting to share it with me ;; it was such an incredible and heartwarming surprise to me that i almost cried seriously and i wish i had a tumblr now more than ever so i could give their post all the likes and reblogs it deserves but since i dont and also wanted to pimp it out on not just tea lights but a post more readers would see, i decided that what better reason to pick up this story again and finish it and what better place to do so than here, since most of the readers who enjoyed tea lights would probably be reading this too? :) so i guess you can say this artist and their gorgeous artwork served as the muse for me to resume this fic haha and i really have to thank them for motivating me to continue a fic i had thought i would never finish! if you like the graphic, please drop her a reblog or fave to support her!! thank you :3
> 
> markson is my ultimate otp so i always feel like i write them too little and haven't written them for a long time so writing them again really feels like coming home. thank you so much really to those commenters who asked me when i would post the next chap or if i was going to continue it (i know some writers feel pressured by questions like that but when i receive them on any of my chaptered fics i feel really happy that readers are so interested and curious about the verse!) and the readers who generously dropped their kudos although they didn't know how the story would turn out or if it would ever end.
> 
> by the way i honestly didnt plan for twice to even appear in this fic at all, and at such length too so this was such a nice surprise because i've always wanted to write them again :) fun fact i never knew how cute i found mina and mark together until i randomly paired them up here lmao. their otp name in my head is so cute too, i call them minark
> 
> ps. this fic will probably end in one chapter, 2 maximum so i set it as ? to be safe! i don't want to drag it out too long either haha it's already way longer than unless


	4. Chapter 4

Things started to happen very quickly after that. Although Mark had made up his mind spontaneously the moment he saw the competition flyer, to draw Jackson, and the embarrassment and awkwardness that followed his declaration was so thick it couldn't be dissipated for a while, even by Jackson, mostly since he seemed taken aback and thrown by Mark's bold words too; he still hadn't manage to decide what kind of character and setting to draw Jackson as. There were just too many alternate universes Jackson suited; too many ways in which Mark wanted to worship him with his pencil on canvas. He wasn't stumped, but spoiled for choice.

Jackson had many ideas. On one of their individual outings together, he gave Mark another surprise by taking him to a cosplay cafe where people could dress up in the anime costumes and wigs. Mark sputtered speechlessly as Jackson daringly tried on a pink wig with two long fluffy ponytails that made him look like Sailormoon and even a navy-and-white sailor uniform and short pinafore skirt. Jackson looked way too cute in the outfit to be healthy for his heart and Mark quickly corrected him by protesting that he wasn't drawing Jackson as a girl, so this was unnecessary.

"You never know, it might inspire you." Jackson threw him a wink, flouncing around with remarkable comfort and agility in the short frilly skirt. Mark clenched his hands in his pockets to stop himself from tackling him down and wrestling the uniform off him before the sight made Mark commit a stupid and terrible mistake like kissing Jackson or saying, _You're so pretty_.

 

In the end, it was unexpectedly Mina who helped him solve his dilemma. The next time Mark went to the store again to return his most recent loans, Jackson tagged along again. He teasingly asked with a bit of suspicion if it was one of the days Mina was working alone, and Mark lied that he didn't know, sweating.

Mina lit up from behind the counter when they walked in, her dimples showing. She was wearing a nicer outfit than usual, which Jackson immediately complimented her on like a gentleman. She blushed and stammered her thanks, unable to meet his eyes and flickered a coy glance at Mark from beneath her eyelashes. Jackson looked at Mark in amusement, obviously not missing it either.

Mark cleared his throat and nervously heaved his bag of books onto the counter. He hoped the other two girls weren't trying to play matchmaker; he knew he could be dense and obtuse sometimes but this was too obvious for even him not to sense. He didn't want to disappoint someone as sweet as Mina and felt bad, not wanting to lead another person on again as he had poor Jaebum.

Luckily, Mina didn't seem to display any more flirtatiousness towards him, just looking up from scanning the books with her usual smile when Mark murmured that he was going to browse the shelves a little. Jackson stayed although she was less chatty and more meek than the other two girls, deftly drawing her into casual conversation the way he always managed to engage Mark. Mark pricked one ear up as he idly made a round of the store, absurdly feeling a little jealous again.

 

But as Mark returned to the counter with the armful of books he had picked out, ready to collect Jackson and leave for home, Mina piped up hesitantly after she had bagged them for him.

"Mark oppa, I wanted to ask you something about the competition..."

Mark turned back with a questioning smile. "Sure." He had thanked Mina earlier when he came into the shop for letting him know about it and she waved away his courtesies, looking pleased but embarrassed.

Jackson looked curious too, leaning forward to hear what she had to say.

Mina blushed under both their gazes. "Well... I, uh, called the organizers up to check if they allow collaborations, and they said yes." She raised her eyes to him, looking hopeful. "I'm planning to participate too, so do you maybe want to co-draw an entry with me?"

Mina's eyes were so expectant that Mark didn't know how to reply for a moment, before Jackson forestalled him by blurting, "He's drawing me though."

Mina blinked, looking surprised. "Really?"

Mark nodded sheepishly, feeling like it was an admission of something. "Yeah. Jackson is... um, a good subject." He shuffled his feet and looked at the floor.

Mina pondered this, then said, "I don't mind drawing Jackson-san with you... if you want to?"

Mark looked up at her again, feeling Jackson's eyes on his face, waiting for his answer. He didn't know what to say and decided on impulse, deciding to follow his instinct. There was nothing to lose and everything to gain by working with Mina, who from the fan-drawn sketches of popular anime characters pinned up around the store among posters and signed with her name he could tell was a talented artist, and he was also intrigued to learn from her and see how their styles would mesh. He was flattered that Mina wanted to work with him too, although he had never shown her his work.

So he said yes before he could think it through, his eyes immediately flickering over to Jackson. He was still smiling, his eyes inscrutable as ever, as he held out the palm that was now familiar to Mark to Mina for a warm high-five. "That's awesome, I'm gonna be a model for two great artists instead of one!"

 

The three of them met again at the store a few days later on an afternoon they had arranged to start work on the portrait. Mina was dressed in the uniform of a private girls' school, looking more like she had stepped out of an anime than ever and causing the few schoolboys meandering in the shop to swoon. They shot Mark envious looks, and Mark caught a whisper of "I knew she preferred college students!" and abruptly realized when he looked down at the street clothes he wore to university that he was now an older guy to these high school teenagers still in uniform. It was a little jarring especially since Jackson was wearing his uniform too.

Jackson looked a little irked as well at Mark being identified as Mina's boyfriend and himself disregarded, and Mark wondered if he didn't like the age difference between them being pointed out too. He knew Jackson wished he was out of high school and already a college student as well, feeling that he would be taken more seriously.

Mina blushed at the attention and quickly hustled them through a door at the back of the shop Mark had passed by many times but never entered because it was labeled as "Employees Only". Now, he finally had a chance to see what lay behind.

It wasn't much, just a small room that seemed to double as a pantry and staff lounge, with comfortable ratty sofas along two walls and an espresso machine on a kitchen counter against the third, with some other snacks and refreshments. There was a large rectangular wooden table like the kind mangakas and their assistants sat around to sketch in the centre of the room. It was weakly lit by fluorescent lights but had a cozy atmosphere.

Mina switched on the air-conditioning and gestured to the snack bar, dimpling. "Help yourselves," she urged.

Jackson immediately pulled out chairs for both of them, inviting them to sit down and start brainstorming while he would get drinks for them and serve them. Mark smiled at him gratefully and took a seat, letting Jackson push the chair gently underneath him.

 

It was after a few minutes of throwing out ideas, with Jackson occasionally chiming in, seeming to be bursting with contributions and inspiration of his own though he was only the model too. Mark was grateful for his presence; he couldn't imagine how awkward and stilted the air would have been had it only been him and Mina present. Not that he felt awkward with her, but naturally they would find it difficult to communicate alone without a third party around to be a bridge since they were both introverts.

Mark was still overflowing with ideas, and he slid a few rough sketches of Jackson he had torn out from his sketchbook to show Mina. As she spread them over the table and pored over them with Jackson, both of them looking admiring, Mark blushed with pleasure and embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Did you do all these since the last time we met?" Mina asked with awe, and Mark lowered his eyes under Jackson's openly curious gaze swinging towards him.

"Uh... I guess," he hedged, feeling bad for lying but not able to admit that some of them were from long before, in the past year.

"I like this one!" Jackson placed his finger decisively on the anime-style sketch Mark had done of him, face relaxed and open and natural. Mina nodded, and picked out another one of his full body and side profile on the basketball court, poised to dunk. Jackson stared at the intensity of his own eyes trained on the hoop, and Mark felt like snatching the paper away and hiding it somewhere no prying eyes could see.

He was grateful when Mina piped up, "I was thinking of doing the genre of shoujo too, especially since you're so talented in drawing shoujo style. What do you think, oppa?"

Mark started; he had never felt himself particularly adept in sketching shoujo or anime style, especially since he seldom read the genre. There was just something about Jackson's looks and quality, as he had noticed even back at seventeen, that was so shoujo-hero-like.

But since Mark couldn't explain that he had used this style for that reason rather than because he was passionate about it, he just nodded. Thinking about it a little more, he also realized that this was probably the most appropriate genre to use for the competition, because although he would have loved to draw Jackson in a seinen or shounen manga as a medieval warrior or an avenger of justice with superpowers, he mostly wanted to draw Jackson in the light Mark always saw him -- natural, soft and gentle. He felt he could bring Jackson's attributes and characteristics out the best and most flatteringly in this way.

 

Mark had long suspected it, but as the sketch progressed it was confirmed. Jackson _was_ his muse -- the person in the world who inspired Mark most, whose exquisitely-sculpted face and expressions came alive the fastest under Mark's pencil flying over the rich paper of the sketchpad.

They had decided that Mina would be in charge of the background and scenery, the details and Jackson's body, while Mark would focus on the face and features since he knew him better. They both felt that what Jackson was wearing at the time was perfect, without having to dress up in any elaborate costumes or makeup. They were going for a lifelike, realistic feel. Jackson jokingly asked if they needed him to pose topless, as he had heard some artists' models did. Mark blushed and sputtered incoherently, while Mina replied surprisingly primly that they were doing a high school shoujo, not a smut manga.

Mark never tired of drawing Jackson. Although nobody knew, he had already spend a lot of time doing so out of his own volition previously, and now it felt like he had an excuse to do so legitimately. He didn't mind the hard work, erasing and redrawing the same centimetre-long curve ten times just to get it exactly right, if it was to beautify Jackson, capture the perfection of his gorgeous imperfections on paper and ink. Jackson was made to be drawn, to be captured larger-than-life in worshipful colours and Mark wanted to be the best, if not the only person to do so.

He lingered over every line lovingly, never stopping until he got that exact composition of features right; until he felt like the Jackson he had drawn could walk out of the paper and come to life. He definitely wasn't taking his sweet time just so he could spend more private hours with Jackson who just as willingly and patiently posed for him, staying impressively still for hours at a time. Mark didn't think there had ever been such an obedient muse.

He took so long to be satisfied with his rendering of Jackson's face that Mina was already done with the backgrounds, body and scenery by the time he had completed. They were taking turns to draw on an almost metre-long sheet of paper propped up against an easel, much bigger than any portraits he had ever drawn and half as large as the real Jackson. Jackson sometimes stared with wonderment at how the sketch was developing, coming to life beneath Mina and Mark's flying fingers, looking like a mirror image of Jackson.

"I look like that?" he asked Mark a few times in disbelief, eyes widening at the expression Mark had tenderly captured on his face, both faraway and carefree at once. He was thinking of how Jackson looked when he talked about the future, how it was his last year of high school and that was that sense of indescribable nostalgia mixed with patience, the wish for time to slow and pass quickly at the same time.

"Like what?" Mark asked gently, slightly teasing but also curious to know what Jackson was so surprised about how Mark had rendered him.

Jackson looked at him, then back at the picture, unable to take his eyes off his portrait. "So..." He seemed to struggle to find the words. " _Siwen_?" he eventually continued in Mandarin, seeming unable to find an English word to describe how he felt. " _Shenao_?"

Mark hit him, and Jackson was grinning as he pretended to topple over onto the couch in their makeshift studio. Mark was beyond honoured that Mina had grown to trust both of them so much she gave them a copy of the keys to come in and out as they wished. Sometimes Mark got so absorbed that they stayed on even after the girls closed the shop up, until he had finished for the day and Jackson always accompanied him without complaint, walking him home.

 

At present, Mark leaned back to survey his work objectively, the pencil he was using to smudge some of the more delicate lines for a softening and layered effect still suspended between his fingers like a cigarette. Jackson smiled and took it from his hand, tucking it behind his ear, and remarked, "All you need is a beret and you'll look like a real artist."

Mark blushed just imagining how ridiculous he'd look in a beret, but mostly because of how Jackson's fingers had skimmed over the shell of his ear and threaded absently through his hair, tucking the longer strands behind his ear along with the pencil. It was an unsettlingly intimate gesture and Mark shifted away subtly a foot, but Jackson just leaned in closer.

Unable to translate the Mandarin words Jackson had used into Korean either, he settled for switching to English. He gathered his scattered wits and returned his attention to the picture. "No, you don't look refined and profound," he countered, hoping he sounded calm. Jackson punched his shoulder playfully.

"It's not just that." Jackson frowned, blushing a little. "It's just this feeling? Quality? I don't know, I've never told anyone about this feeling I have but somehow you managed to capture it in my look and stance. It feels so... intimate." He shuddered, and rubbed his arms. "Mark, I feel like you've seen me naked!" Jackson yelled suddenly, surprising Mark and freezing his arm midair where it had been about to snake casually around Jackson's broad shoulders to warm him up in the lingering chill of the off but still-thrumming air conditioner.

"W-what are you talking about?!" Mark stuttered, was pretty sure he was blushing like a fiend. Luckily they had just switched the room lights off and were preparing to leave, only the fading fluorescent glow glimmering from the ceiling like the ghost of a moon.

He abruptly felt like Jackson was the one who had seen him naked, stripped his motives bare with his unsuspecting words. Jackson complained that he was impossible to decipher, but in front of Jackson, Mark always felt way too transparent.

"Gross, who wants to see you naked," was the incredibly pathetic comeback he managed to spit out in the end, shoving Jackson's bag too hard into his arms and striding to the door in haste. "Are you coming?"

Jackson yelped and rushed to join him, his bag slung askew over his shoulders; but later as he was dozing off on Mark's shoulder on the bus ride home, Mark surreptitiously angled his face down to drink in the length of Jackson's lashes casting thick shadows over his refined cheekbones, his profound beauty that shook Mark deep in his bones. There were the faintest, almost artistically smudged shadows beneath his eyes, from the late nights he had been keeping recently to balance modelling for Mark with his homework.

Mark didn't know what was happening to him -- only that something inside him was changing, rapidly, with every day that passed. His eyes flickered slowly and painfully down to Jackson's slightly parted, soft-looking and glossy lips.

Mark tore his eyes away with a great effort, breathing erratic. His heartbeat was racing.

He didn't know how long he would be able to hold himself back.

 

Sometimes all three of them arranged to meet together to match and discuss their plans. But Mark and Mina usually worked on their portions at different times, as they had different school schedules too. They would come in expecting to see a few new changes every time Mark came by with Jackson, and they were never disappointed by the diminutive but strikingly talented girl's meticulousness and attention to detail. Since Mina hadn't wanted to trouble Jackson to turn up for more than necessary as he was already modelling for them for free, although Jackson gallantly said he didn't mind, he had let her snap a few pictures on her phone in different poses so Mina knew how his physique looked like from different angles. She had blown them up and tacked the prints to the cork board behind the easel for reference and Mark wouldn't admit to surreptitiously staring at them more than once.

"Don't show them to anyone else," Jackson joked, making her blush, but later he commented, not unkindly, that if Mark were modelling she would probably want to spend more time with him.

Mark swatted him, flustered and said he was full of shit.

He had played the role of Jackson's stylist during the "shoot", instructing Jackson how to pose to match the angle he had in his mind that he wanted to draw his face, his body facing a distant point in the horizon, not too stiff or overly artful. Unselfconscious, like Jackson, and slightly distracted. The moments in which Jackson was being himself completely was what Mark wanted to capture, because he felt that this side of Jackson was what he saw most. And this lack of pretensions was the most appealing thing about him.

He had undone the top button of Jackson's uniform, the way he usually wore it outside of formal assemblies, tie-less, shirttails falling out almost sloppily from his baggy uniform pants. Pristine white shirt half-tucked into contrasting navy pants, Jackson's hands shoved into his pockets with contemplation in his expression and that preternaturally unreadable something that both thrilled and titillated in his dark eyes. The hint of a smile playing at his lips, as if the camera had caught him at the moment just before he burst into one of his trademark blinding grins.

Maybe that was what he had been talking about -- that indefinable quality Mark often caught a glimpse of, rugged, slightly uncertain, pensive. There was this side of Jackson too, but Mark knew that not many people knew. It wasn't that Jackson hid it, just that not many people bothered to find out. Most just glanced at him on the surface, and then put him in a box, stereotyped him as the class clown, the funny guy, the daredevil and social butterfly. But Mark knew that Jackson was so much deeper than that; that he had so many different layers.

It was easy to miss, Mark knew. At first sight, he too had almost categorized Jackson as a masculine, tough dude. Just like he knew many people saw him as a quiet loner, uninteresting and boring, inexpressive. Sometimes, he believed that impression of himself too. But Jackson had drawn him out of his shell, showing him how colourful and zany he could be, even if he didn't try. Naturally.

 

He rushed a little to finish most of it before Jackson's birthday, wanting to present it to him as a gift. Mark knew enough of Jackson's insecurities to wish more than once that Jackson could see himself through his eyes, to know how -- not just adequate and enough, but -- perfect, even flawless, more than deserving and worthy of love he was to Mark and everybody else. Mark couldn't think of a more meaningful present to give Jackson for his birthday, than proof of his beauty and magnetic attractiveness.

He managed to get it done, just on time -- Mina had completed her part very competently and obligingly and all they had left to do was to brush an acrylic finish over the watercolours Mina had splashed on in shades of muted pastel, mixing a rainbow of colours to form gradients Mark never knew were possible. There was an ethereal dimension to the finished product, Jackson's self-possessed figure and brooding expression, the devastating mixture of doubt and confidence in his gaze looking ready to leap off the paper into real life.

Mina's brushstrokes were bold and fearless but precise and nuanced at the same time, bringing out Jackson's personality despite the fairytale shoujo palette. It was an ineffable mixture of soft and hard, just like Jackson himself, how he could be a huge marshmallow about some things and absolutely unbending and unyielding about others. Mark enhanced her work with some smudges here and there, translucent, ephemeral bubbles and glitters of sunlight to make Jackson look more princelike. He even drew some actual sparkles as in shoujo mangas, tossing subtlety into the bin. The result was Jackson looking like a dreamboat delinquent freshly fallen from heaven.

 

Jackson inhaled softly when Mark unveiled the picture with a flourish, his heart pattering shallowly in his chest. It hadn't occurred to him till now -- but what if Jackson didn't like it? He couldn't imagine how personal it felt to be drawn by a good friend.

"Mark," Jackson murmured, sounding dazed. He couldn't tear his eyes off the picture and Mark took it as a good sign. "Will you forget me when you become famous?"

Mark started coughing as the saliva he had swallowed nervously went down the wrong pipe. "What?"

"I'm serious, dude. This is really good." Jackson was gushing and he never gushed.

"And I'm not just being biased," he added empathically before Mark could dismiss his compliments disbelievingly.

"You like it?" Mark whimpered, suddenly choked up.

Jackson finally turned to look at him, and seemed to see something in Mark's face that made him soften at once.

"Aw, Markiepooh," he cooed, voice gentler as he opened his arms. "Come here." Mark walked into them and buried his sniffles shamelessly in Jackson's shoulder, inhaling his comforting scent. "Mark my words, you guys are going to win this competition. You're gonna blow all the other entries clean out of the water," he murmured in Mark's ear.

 

Always by Bon Jovi played in the background from the speakers where Jackson's iPod was docked as Mark and Mina worked together for the last time to brush the acrylic finish in an immaculate and impeccable layer, like the glaze of enamel over pottery. They had gotten into the habit of putting music on while they were working after Mina showed them how to use the aged stereo system. It wasn't the best but somehow the tinny quality of the music, echoing through the small room and filling all the spaces, felt fitting.

Mina usually put on calming piano pieces, rain sounds or mood music to get her into the groove to work but Jackson liked to rock out to his rap music and obscure indie bands while flipping through the latest volume of _Haikyuu!!_ he had grabbed from the shelf with entitlement as if the store was his house and promptly worked his way through. He seemed to like sports mangas and Mark was happy to provide recommendations with his rich expertise.

He himself had started on another genre he seldom touched before -- shoujo, which he had previously dismissed as uninteresting, vapid fluff for adolescent girls but had industriously started reading a few recommendations from the girls as well so that he could draw the portrait better and learn from the styles of other artists. Some of the plots were surprisingly well-written and definitely helped him in improving his versatility.

 

He was absorbed in the first volume of _Aozora Yell_ when Mina rushed in through the door in a flurry, her usual poise and composure scattered. Mark's heart flipped with a flutter of anticipation. Collide by Howie Day was playing through the speakers; he remembered because of the words she said next.

"Mark oppa, Jackson-san --" At first, they had both found the way she addressed them jarring (or maybe more the way she addressed the other person than themselves) but Mina seemed to feel the need for more formality with Jackson since she had been acquainted with Mark far longer, and they had grown used to her cute terms of address. The three of them were a unit now and Mark sensed that Jackson had also stopped wondering and querying whether they liked each other, and that Mina's endearing irresistible charm had grown on him too.

Now, he stood up, chair scraping back as Mark remained rooted to his. Mina's face was glowing with elation, her cheeks pink and tendrils of hair escaping her usually neat bun.

"We... we won!"

She produced a ripped open envelope and placed it on the table. Jackson was behind Mark's chair so fast he didn't even have time to blink, arms bracketing his shoulders and hands braced on the table around Mark, and he felt his hands shaking as he opened the letter. It was in Japanese, but it didn't matter as Jackson let out a gleeful shout and threw his arms around Mark, who turned around to meet his hug as Mina read the congratulatory message out to them, her voice trembling.

"I told you so!" Jackson kept saying, ruffling his hair as if he was suddenly older than Mark. They were jumping up and down with hyperactivity, still holding on to each other clumsily before he knew it. Mina was watching them with pride and warmth in her eyes and wiping away stray tears, half-laughing at their silliness.

 

Mark looked around them at the nondescript backroom where their dream had been formed, painstakingly developed and come true. It was a nothing little room, cozily furnished but otherwise spare and aging. Then he looked at Mina and Jackson's shining faces, and knew that it wasn't the room that had made such an incredible dream come true. It was the people.

It was Jackson, who had supported him every step of the way, transformed this dingy studio into paradise and a garden of inspiration with his lively and sun-like presence, who had taken hours and days to be here for Mark, always smiling and never grumbling, always showering compliments on him, and never expecting a single thing in return.

Mark looked at Jackson and wanted to tell him more than anything that without Jackson, they could never have won. They would never have stood a chance had he drawn anything else, because there was nothing and no one he felt more passion and tenderness about than his -- bro, friend, dongsaeng, crush -- whatever Jackson was.

He was everything.

 _Thank you_ , Mark wanted to say to Mina too, for offering to let him join her. He knew he couldn't have done this without her either. Her skill, and her warmth and hardworking attitude that always motivated both of them to do better. Mark realized, with a pang, that if he didn't have this boulder-sized man crush on Jackson, Mina would probably be exactly his type.

He also only realized now what a blessing in disguise it was that they had joined together. Firstly, it would take half the pressure off his shoulders, a very helpful thing considering he was still in his first year of university and could only take on part-time jobs at most. Secondly, he would be hopeless at deciphering all the correspondence and instructions from the magazine about how to go about drawing and sending the chapters of the manga they would be starting over to the office in Japan without her help. Mina also expressed that because it was her final year of high school, she appreciated that Mark could share her workload.

 

One of the few tropes that struck Mark in most of the yaoi mangas he read was the difficulty and apprehension the characters who fell in love first or were nursing unrequited feelings faced in confessing to the object of their love interest. Initially, he had found the heaping angst slightly unrealistic and dramatic, but as his feelings grew and burgeoned on their own accord, he started feeling like a character in one of the most cliche mangas.

Because it was true -- it took a lot of courage and a lot of risk to tell someone else you liked them, especially if they were of the same gender and if one didn't know whether they felt the same. There were so many reasons why it would be a disastrous idea: the person might feel burdened, pressured or awkward afterward, or even start avoiding him. If only Jackson would say something first, daringly confess like all the other girls and even a few boys Mark had received love letters from on Valentine's day, tucked into his desk. He hadn't considered how they must have felt until now, mustering up their courage and baring their heart only to be rejected tactlessly by him. But what could one do, if he didn't return their affections?

It would be cruel to lead them on. And this feeling that Mark knew well, was what he was most afraid Jackson would start feeling towards him if Mark let slip any hint of his feelings.

He knew that if he was in a manga, or even a story, readers would be rooting for him to stop being a wimp and just speak his heart and mind. But the thing was -- try as he might, he still couldn't read Jackson. He was a closed book to Mark. And he seemed determined, sometimes even deliberately guarded, not to allow Mark a fleeting glimpse through the cracks in his armour.

Thus the months trickled past with Mark feeling like he was dead-ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for 7 new subs omg ;u; 2 updates in a day because i was feeling inspired, its been the first productive day for me in terms of quantity for a long time but idk about quality lmao. i know the pacing is horrendous, like i just spent 2 chapters going off on a tangent about an art competition and im not even done with "19" yet, and im aware there are slight differences in the writing styles of the first 3 chapters because i wrote them months apart lol. its been a rocky voyage for this fic and i know its kind of a mess but i really appreciate the readers who overlooked its flaws and stuck with me! also i sorta felt like i wrote jinyoung a little bratty in the last chapter and different from how he was in unless idk why either it happened every time i tried to write jjp moments lol. looking at the pacing rn i guess the only thing i excel (or should i say fail) in is writing about extremely dense emotional constipation fml
> 
> also this is random but there are a few readers whose names i see in the kudos section of nearly all (or even all) my fics and i just really want to thank these people (you know who you are, if you've read most of my fics even if you haven't left kudos! :)) for liking my writing so much you read everything i post so heartily and supportively. like i havent even talked to some of them but just seeing their names keep appearing in my life makes my heart happy :) it's an incredible honour to me that you've spent so much time reading my works!


	5. Chapter 5

He started working together at the same time with Mina more while drawing up the first chapter of the manga that the magazine had given them a deadline of one month to send over. They were doing the genre of shoujo as they had submitted the portrait, and decided to base the girl character on Mina. Momo and Sana asked her sweetly if she could draw them in too, and she meekly agreed. When Youngjae heard somehow, he asked Mark when they met by arrangement on one Saturday at the store if he could have a cameo too.

Of course, Bambam and Yugyeom didn't take long to get the news too, and if he was including all of them it seemed rude not to include his brother and Jaebum as well. Obviously, they couldn't base the characters off real people as this was a work of fiction, so they decided to change some traits for everyone, including Jackson and Mina, only keeping a few defining features of appearance and personality. They came up with an original plot too with the helpful contributions of ideas by their friends.

It was fun to reminisce about high school and drawing a manga set in it brought back sweet memories of his own school days, mostly with Jackson, Jinyoung and Jaebum. However, his first year of university had been much more exciting and pleasurable than he had expected too and he knew he wouldn't have made his current new friends, met his classmates with the same interests and hobbies, as well as the three girls at the manga shop if he hadn't turned nineteen. For the first time, he didn't wish to go back to the past but was content where he was, and looking forward to the future.

It was a little weird drawing Jackson and Mina falling in love, even though it was only on paper, and Mark knew he was truly a goner when he found himself jealous of the manga-Mina for being able to confess so easily and successfully to manga-Jackson, who immediately swept her into a kiss, murmuring, "I feel the same about you."

If only real life could go so smooth sailing too.

 

It was a slice-of-life manga, with the relationship developing slowly and innocently, like a puppy crush and first love. They couldn't think of any better place to gather and work at than the old studio behind the manga store, although they had received a modest sum of prize money which they could have used to rent an actual studio with better facilities.

But both agreed it wasn't necessary and they would rather spend the sum on quality materials and pens as they could do their best work in the little backroom, although the lighting wasn't great and the air-conditioner was noisy and asthmatic and the stereo sometimes broke down.

Mark thought these might be the happiest times of his nineteenth year, the moments when Mina worked industriously opposite him, both of them seated at the wooden table with only the scritch-scritch of furious drawing filling the air. They took turns to draw backgrounds and characters, as he was better at drawing Mina from some angles when she couldn't see herself objectively and she was better at drawing her expressions since she knew her own face better.

The only one of their group Mark refused staunchly to add into the manga was himself, simply because he was way too shy to appear in a magazine tons of readers would read, even if they were in Japan and it was just a character. Later, though, he would find out that Mina and Jackson had conspired together to add him subtly in as a passerby in a few cameos throughout the manga, easily missed if one wasn't looking too closely. They found it so amusing he couldn't hold it against them.

While they worked, Jackson sharpened pencils for them, gradually getting so expert at it that he managed to finish with only one long, unbroken shaving. It was a pretty obscure skill but he was adorably proud of it. They had gotten his appearance from different angles and expressions mostly down and he didn't have to turn up for every session to join them, but he insisted, explaining that it was still possible they might need to look at the real him for reference for some tricky scenes. Mark had a feeling he just wanted to chaperone them, although it was absurd because Mina never made any moves on him and she wasn't the kind of girl who would even if they were all alone.

He had a surprising amount of fun drawing shoujo style, although it was a genre he had never in his wildest dreams considered or desired to draw before. It challenged him and encouraged his creativity when he experimented with new ways of drawing Mina shared with him, and the perfect weaving together of their styles provided both masculinity and a feminine touch to the product. In fact, he hadn't even thought of becoming a mangaka, simply because although he liked reading mangas he never thought himself an artist, just someone who drew for fun and entertainment and drawing manga wasn't exactly a very viable career option outside of Japan. Although he was majoring in art in university, he had assumed he would get a job in a company dealing with it, that was all. He was still mustering the courage to break to his mother, "Mom, I want to be a _manhuajia_." This was an ambition he had stumbled into, but now couldn't see himself doing anything else.

 

Mina texted him one day asking to meet alone at a cafe downtown, and Mark was torn about whether to tell Jackson. He didn't want to seem like he was seeking attention, and there was technically no reason to let Jackson know about the meeting. Judging from his recent actions, perhaps Jackson would want to know; but then again it was equally possible he would ask "Why are you telling me this?" and Mark would have no answer.

Noticing he was overthinking again -- something he only did about Jackson, and hardly about other subjects or people -- Mark forcefully shoved the matter out of his mind and replied Mina pleasantly that he would be there. He couldn't refuse to meet her when they were colleagues in a way now, that would be irresponsible of him. And since she hadn't confessed or made any other overtures towards him, it would be overly cocky of himself to assume that this was a date.

Even if it was -- he was single, and free to date whomever he may wish. He still liked Jackson -- more than ever, actually -- but Jackson had never been aware of his feelings. They were totally in his head.

 

Mina was dressed in Japanese-style street clothes, a light pink dress and matching heels when he saw her daintily sipping iced coffee from a straw through the window. He hesitated, then went in.

He could tell from the way the waitress and customers at surrounding tables saw how she smiled and waved to him and he walked towards her, dressed in equally stylish street clothes, that everyone would assume they were a couple. It felt slightly uncomfortable and he wanted to correct their misunderstanding although it didn't matter.

"Hi, oppa," Mina flashed her dimples as he sat down, now much more comfortable and less shy with him than months before, and he self-consciously smiled at her, pleased to see her too but feeling awkward at meeting her alone for the first time outside the store.

He ordered a macchiato and they chatted awhile about art and the weather and school and her upcoming exams, mostly nothing in particular. Mark was wondering more and more if he had turned up for a date unwittingly, but uncertain about how to clarify that he didn't see it as one if she didn't take the initiative to show any romantic intent.

 

When Mina fell silent, sipping the last of her drink and seeming to have exhausted her arsenal of small talk, Mark searched his mind for conversation topics to fill the slightly awkward silence. He decided to raise a question he had been curious about for some time and now felt more comfortable to ask.

"I always wondered, but, um... are you, Momo and Sana sisters?"

Mina looked surprised, then smiled, seeming pleased by Mark's interest. She nodded.

"Sana is my _onee-chan_. But Momo is her girlfriend," she said nonchalantly.

Mark sputtered on the sip of coffee he had just taken. Yuri was one of the genres he hadn't rented from the store -- not because he didn't have interest in it, but because since he was one of the regulars the girls recognized him more than other customers and he felt too shy without the cloak of anonymity to rent such genres in public. He preferred to read them from scans online, though the quality wasn't as good. But in all his conjectures about their relationship, the thought had never entered his mind that two of the three girls were a couple.

Mina was laughing at the look on his face, and it took Mark a while to realize that she had been kidding. "You're so gullible!" Mina exclaimed, seeming to find him a great entertainment as she clutched her side and nearly laughed herself breathless. She was more mischievous than he had thought. He blushed furiously, both about his reaction and having been hoodwinked.

"I'm sorry." Mina finally stopped laughing, wiping her eyes. "I didn't mean to prank you. I didn't think you'd believe me. Momo is just our childhood friend."

"Anyway," she added slightly playfully as Mark sipped his coffee while thinking of a reply, a little miffed and embarrassed, "Do you think she'd be dating Youngjae oppa if she had a girlfriend?"

"Wait, what? Youngjae is dating who?" Mark was swiftly distracted by this information.

"You didn't know?" Mina said, looking apologetic. "Sorry, I only joked because I thought you knew."

"He didn't tell me. And it's okay, I can take a joke," Mark replied graciously, not wanting to make Mina feel bad and knowing she was just teasing him. Not that Sana and Momo wouldn't be the cutest couple ever if they were dating. He felt a slight pride at realizing that he had indirectly been responsible for bringing Momo and Youngjae together, though most of the credit had to go to Jackson. Mark hadn't known he had genuinely wanted to hook them up with each other. So it turned out that he and Jackson, instead of the other two girls, had been the matchmakers here.

 

Their conversation grew slightly easier after Mina's joke which seemed to break the ice. Mark began to relax and they ordered another round of drinks. Mina selected a pretty strawberry pastry from the glass display case.

"By the way... how did you know I draw, when you passed me the notice for the competition?" he blurted out apropos to nothing.

Mina looked up from her cake, eyes wide. "Ah... Jackson oppa told Momo the first day you came in together, and she told me."

"Oh," Mark stammered, confused at the sudden mention of Jackson's name. "I thought you, uh, noticed me carrying my sketchbooks."

"Oh, no, sorry I didn't..." Mina looked confused, and Mark suddenly felt both embarrassed and ashamed for being so presumptuous not only today, but all this time, simply assuming she had a crush on him based on a few wild conjectures.

"I thought you... towards me..." he babbled, then wished he hadn't said anything but Mina had been staring at him so expectantly for clarification that his tongue slipped. He flushed and dared not meet her eyes.

There was an opaque silence, before Mina broke it softly.

"You thought right. I did."

Mark's eyes flew up to her face which was now blushing and avoiding his too.

"I had a crush on you for a long time," Mina muttered, cheeks flaming and sounding uncannily like Mark himself. He wanted to tell Mina the thought that had occurred to him not long ago, how much he admired her as a girl and that if his heart weren't already taken, he would most definitely accept her feelings. But he didn't know how to express himself.

"Momo knew. And she told me about Jackson oppa the day he came in, and how he gushed and raved about your drawing skills --"

"Wait, gushed and raved?" Mark cut her off unintentionally. "But... Jackson hadn't seen any of my drawings, till the time I showed them to you too." He hadn't been able to hide the fact that he sketched often from his friends and brother because he carried his sketchbook almost everywhere he went but he had been fiercely protective of it and never permitted them a peek. "How did he even know whether I was good?"

Mina finally looked up at him, blush fading, and smiled, shrugging a little. "I guess he had confidence in you." Her half-smile was bittersweet and Mark felt a guilty pang. His mind flitted from the revelation about Jackson to the other about Mina's longtime crush which he had suspected but never knew for sure.

He didn't know what to say. Luckily Mina continued.

"I had a bad feeling when Momo told me I should give up after she spoke to both of you the first day. I knew she's very observant and I should trust her advice about relationships. But... I couldn't let go of my feelings so easily."

Her words continued tumbling out, sounding more outspoken than she usually was. Mark wisely didn't interrupt, knowing it was important to let her get her full confession out, although he had to sadly reject her.

"But after interacting with you and Jackson oppa, I realized that... I couldn't come between something so special. Even if I wanted to. The bond you have... is so beautiful, I was happy just to be friends with both of you. I'm happy for both of you that you found each other and would never do anything to hurt your relationship." She finished and lowered her eyes demurely.

Mark was stupefied, dumbfounded by her speech. Mina was blushing again and quickly took a big gulp of her drink, seeming mortified but relieved. Mark felt like the rug had been pulled out from beneath him. He couldn't believe that his feelings were so obvious, even to a close but relatively new friend like Mina. He must be as transparent as he felt.

"How... how did you know... I like Jackson?" It was the first time Mark had spat the words out aloud, and not just tried them experimentally in his head. And it was to a person he had never expected to be the first to hear them from his lips. Life really was unpredictable.

Mina laughed softly, the bittersweetness leaving her pretty smile. The playful glint reentered her eye.

"You know, I'm not a _fujoshi_ for nothing."

 

After she had let her feelings out honestly, the last of the awkwardness between them seemed to dissipate. Although they were both quiet people, they also both had their wild sides and Mina showed him her fun sense of humour, while he revealed his to her too. They had become both good co-workers and platonic friends, his first real female friend. He never told Jackson of their private meeting as he was afraid Jackson would ask what they had talked about, and when Jackson remarked casually that they seemed closer, Mina smiled and slung an arm around Mark's shoulder warmly.

"We're like brother and sister," she said, and Mark shot her a grateful look knowing that she said it out of consideration for what she now knew. She had been surprised when Mark told her he was the only one who held a torch for Jackson and pleaded with her not to let him on the secret. She looked skeptical and said it looked to her like Jackson liked him back, but Mark immediately vehemently denied the possibility, heart pounding shallowly and not daring to allow even a sliver of hope in. He told Mina dismally that it was probably her inner fujoshi seeing feelings where there weren't and she finally took pity on him and agreed not to breathe a word to a soul. They had discussed Mark's conflicted feelings a couple of times since then, and Mark felt better with another confidante to share the weight of his hidden crush.

Now, he caught sight of a flash of suspicion in Jackson's eyes as he didn't miss the look they exchanged; the way Mark had started ruffling Mina's hair like he did Jackson's and tugging playfully on her ponytail until she squealed; letting down his guard around her now that they had talked their feelings out and he knew she saw him as a friend and platonic oppa. Mark got the sense that Jackson felt silently jealous and possessive that he was no longer the sole recipient of Mark's attention, but he also saw no reason to restrain his behavior because of that. After all, he and Jackson were just friends too.

 

The months passed swiftly, although the days seemed languid as treacle. September arrived, bringing his and Jinyoung's birthdays.

On the evening of Jinyoung's birthday, they invited Jaebum and Jackson over for a celebration. Both Jaebum and Jinyoung had been acting weird all night, his brother steadily growing more belligerent and his best friend quieter, when Jackson suggested playing spin-the-bottle to lighten the mood.

Everything was happening slowly, and then suddenly too fast. It caught Mark by complete unawares when Jinyoung crawled over on all fours, swaying a little intoxicatedly and boldly dared Jackson to kiss him.

Mark's eyes immediately flew to Jackson's face, seeing him freeze up like a photograph. He knew the nuances of Jackson's expression enough by now to realize with relief that although Jinyoung might want to kiss him (for whatever reason Mark couldn't comprehend, since if his brother liked anyone he had thought for some time that it would be Jaebum -- but then again, if he had read the situation completely wrong, it wouldn't be the first time either), Jackson most certainly did not want to and looked abjectly uncomfortable with the proposal and equally shocked as Mark.

But with all these thoughts flitting and clashing in his mind and Jinyoung seeming to have lost all inhibitions, neither Mark nor Jackson was in time to stop him before he brazenly closed the gap of their circle and between his lips and Jackson's. Neither Mark nor Jackson had expected him to move in, thinking it was just a dumb joke, and when Mark saw the sight of his brother's lips clumsily crushed against his crush's he was unable to process it through his mind for a second.

His heart sank like a stone into a pond, battling with a mixture of rising panic, dismay and icy bitter disappointment. Something like anger bubbled up, his stomach twisting queasily as he watched helplessly while Jackson remained momentarily stock-still with disbelief, his face paling.

Then Mark's body seemed to override his mind, his physical reflexes acting on autopilot to grab Jinyoung with a violence he had never knew he had in his body and haul him off Jackson more forcefully than necessary.

He didn't even feel guilt as he glared ferociously into his younger brother's glassy and unfocused eyes that looked frustrated and sad too for some reason, only the urge to punch him for the first time in his life in his curling fists. Mark took deep breaths and fought it down, his head still spinning with confusion but not wanting to hurt his brother on his birthday or say something he would regret later.

Instead, it was Jaebum who stiffly got to his feet, his movements jerky and spine rigid, lips white and pinched in the blank, stony expression that froze his face only when he was trying to control his emotions. He turned his back sharply on them and strode away and out of the house. Jinyoung stumbled to his feet and weaved after him frantically, looking equally out of control. Jaebum heard the back door of their house that led to the yard slam, then swish closed again more softly a few seconds after.

The alcohol was clouding his mind and fogging up the gears working to put the pieces together, one step behind every action but despite the rational half of his mind belatedly realizing that Jinyoung had just been using (a very underhanded, but he must have been desperate) method to goad Jaebum into revealing his feelings... or maybe goad Mark, the irrational part -- the part that had been dreaming of kissing the very same lips Jinyoung had just tainted for months, _years_ now, flared up with an anger he rarely felt disturb his calm placidity.

 

His body took over once again with a savagery he didn't know he possessed as for the first time in years, Mark followed his impulses and did what he desired, craved, hungered.

He still didn't know if Jackson liked him -- if he would flinch, recoil, push Mark away and flee in disgust; but none of these mattered anymore somehow as the white hot fact that Jackson's lips had been stolen by another boy before him, his _brother_ , burned in Mark's mind relentlessly. No matter how Jackson responded, _if_ he responded, Mark had to claim those lips he had dreamed of day and night. There was no other alternative now. Jinyoung had succeeded into pushing, forcing him into action and Mark felt a feeling exhilarating and devastating in equal measure, like flying and falling at the same time as he grabbed Jackson's shoulders firmly, not allowing him to squirm out of his grasp and backed him against the nearest wall, moving right into his personal space to crash his lips roughly and awkwardly against Jackson's shocked, parted ones.

Their teeth knocked a little through their lips, which hurt, and Jackson inhaled sharply let out a noise which Mark couldn't tell was surprise or pleasure, and the muscles of his upper arms tensed up painfully beneath Mark's fingers -- but Mark didn't remove his lips from Jackson's. He didn't dare to. He wanted to prolong this moment as long as possible, even if it meant not breathing, before he had to face the inevitable backlash in the next. His arms didn't stop caging Jackson against the wall, his lips pinning Jackson's and sealing off his mouth from speaking. Mark clamped his mouth over Jackson's in a desperate almost vice-like grip, pouring all his feelings of the past three years into the amateur, unplanned and rushed kiss.

He didn't want to stop kissing Jackson, not only because he was afraid of the answer to his unintentional confession, but also because -- kissing Jackson was every bit as tremendous and staggering as Mark had imagined. His lips were so, so soft and sweet and pliant, melting open under Mark's almost unresistingly, that it was unreal.

 

Mark's heart was hammering so violently he thought it would beat out of his chest when he finally had no choice but to regretfully break the connection of their lips for air. They both sucked in great lungfuls, their breathing laboured in the space that fogged up between them almost steamily. Jackson's face was bright red and his pupils were dazed and dilated, as if he was more drunk than he could possibly be from the little alcohol they had consumed. His lips were swelling up swiftly and it was the sight that made Mark blush in mortification. He stumbled back a step, suddenly unsure, legs feeling like jelly. Jackson was pinning him with his eyes, so many questions and confusion and that unidentifiable darkness in them that Mark thought was maybe hope or hunger but wasn't sure. It might be anger.

Jackson looked stunned, which was understandable. Mark's heart leaped when he realized Jackson hadn't pushed him away -- but then he remembered he hadn't pushed Jinyoung off either. The anger had ebbed out of him somewhere during the kiss and now he was just so unbearably bewildered, but he knew that the game was up. The cat was out of the bag now. He could no longer hide the truth.

 

"Jackson... I don't want to play games anymore." His words came out brusquer than he had intended because of how nervous he was, almost shaking. He hid his trembling hands behind his back but his hoarse voice and hot face betrayed him.

Jackson's face reddened too, in uneven blotches that look angry. Mark swallowed.

"Games?" Jackson repeated, eyes narrowing. His Adam's apple bobbed too, but his voice sounded more even than Mark's when he spoke after a moment. "Was this all a game to you? Are we still playing Truth or Dare?"

Jackson's voice cracked on the last word, despite his pretensions at bravado. His chin wobbled, and his lower lip trembled. He stared unblinkingly at Mark, eyes fixed on his waiting for his answer, but Mark only realized that Jackson wasn't on the verge of anger but tears when his eyes welled up and a droplet spilled over.

"Shit." He quickly brought a hand up and dashed his knuckles roughly across his eyes. His face was beet red, looking mortified that he had started crying. Mark was staring at him in a daze, unable to react, paralyzed with guilt when he realized that he had accidentally hurt Jackson by saying words that could be misunderstood harshly. How could he have been so insensitive to have said such cold words right after he attacked Jackson in a kiss? In trying to hide his own vulnerability, he had inadvertently acted in a hurtful way towards the person he loved most.

Finally, Mark realized that he was ready. Ready to admit that he loved Jackson in plain, honest words, the truth without any adornment. He wouldn't hide his feelings a minute longer, couldn't. He had to bare his heart and soul to Jackson right away or he would expire from want. He had finally kissed Jackson as he had wanted, and now he had to take responsibility, no matter what the outcome was.

 

Jackson turned to leave, jaw clenched and looking heartbroken, but Mark grabbed his arm. "Wait." His voice came out breathless. "Jackson, please wait," he begged.

He barely had time to see Jackson's eyes soften, feel the resistance in his arms weaken as he stopped trying to pull away. He definitely saw hope in Jackson's wide, round eyes this time.

Mark nearly tripped over a step on the stairs up to his room and broke his neck as he rushed back down in record time, skidding to a panting halt in front of Jackson. Amusement was creeping into Jackson's dark eyes, as well as an emotion Mark recognized. It took him a heartbeat to identify it as trepidation. Jackson's eyes moved slowly down to the sketchbook, as if it was his heart Mark was holding in his hands.

Mark moved towards Jackson slowly, like he was an animal he didn't want to startle, after seeking permission with searching eyes. Jackson placed his hand over Mark's on the side of the cover as Mark flipped the book open, nearly making him drop it. His other hand ever so slowly moved up to settle breathtakingly naturally on Mark's hip as Mark slowly started flipping through the pages from the very first one.

Jackson's gentle hand fell from his hip, his mouth falling open as Mark flipped page by page, slowly so Jackson had time to take it all in. It was all Jackson, pages and pages of no one and nothing else but Jackson -- Jackson sliding in next to him at their table in the school canteen and reaching out a genial hand, on the first day they met; Jackson showing off his biceps; Jackson sitting next to him on the bus back to Jinyoung and Mark's home after school; Jackson conscientiously and seriously doing his Korean assignment, hunched over the worksheet; Jackson eating; Jackson laughing with his mouth wide open; Jackson smiling at Mark like Mark was the most delightful creature in the world.

"Mark, this..." Jackson's voice was shaking again, but he didn't try to hide it this time. And for the first time, neither did he try to disguise the intense flashing darkness in his eyes -- which Mark finally translated successfully as raw, unadulterated want.

He couldn't believe it. Jackson hadn't given him an answer, was too dumbstruck to, but the heartbeat that thundered beneath Mark's fingertips, pace picking up, when he hesitantly placed his hand over Jackson's heart was answer enough. It told him everything he had wanted to know for years but was too afraid to ask, too afraid to reach out and grab hold of because Jackson seemed so ephemeral he might disappear like mist in his fingers. Mark felt like crying tears of relief himself.

"It's you," he said simply instead, voice choked up when Jackson reached up to cover his hand over his chest, tenderly entwining their fingers. "You're all I've ever been able to see."

 

Jackson's eyes had grown misty again, or maybe it was Mark's that were blurring his vision with the prickle of overjoyed tears. He was shaking at his sheer luck, how fortunate he was that Jackson, beautiful perfect amazing flawless unattainable Jackson, reciprocated his feelings. It was the happiest moment of Mark's life.

"I'm sorry," they both blurted out at the same time, voices equally thick, and then both laughed together in synchronicity. Jackson made a half-laughing, half-sobbing noise and gestured for him to speak first.

Mark laughed self-deprecatingly, feeling embarrassed anew. "That was the clumsiest confession ever. You deserved better, but I just couldn't say..." He looked up at Jackson, whose eyes were stricken.

"What are you talking about?" he gently chided Mark. "That was the most romantic confession possible, okay?"

Mark laughed and hit his chest with weak fists, glowing with love. Jackson grabbed his fist easily and unraveled his fingers, quietly threading their digits together. It was a perfect fit.

"No," he said, voice deep. "I'm sorry I didn't have the guts to say it first. I should have. I wanted to."

Mark gasped. "You did?" he breathed, reeling.

Jackson nodded solemnly. "So badly."

"I had no idea." Mark gaped, realized how thick-headed he sounded. He wanted to groan, to hit himself over the head for all the needless angst and wasted time.

Jackson quirked a crooked, wry smile, tilted his head the way he always did when he studied Mark trying to figure it out. "You wouldn't have known. I was very careful about hiding it." His words confirmed Mark's feeling about his guardedness and wariness around Mark; so it had been borne out of uncertainty too.

"I was terrified," Jackson admitted, looking apologetic and sheepish and seeming to think he owed Mark reassurance of his feelings. He shook his head ironically. "I get off on taking risks, but when it came to the one risk that really mattered... I just couldn't bring myself to. I was paralyzed in the limbo of platonic friendship, wanting to move forward but not daring to. I was afraid to lose you as a friend if I scared you away. You know, Mark, you're very flighty and elusive." Jackson grazed his knuckles fondly.

No one had ever called him flighty or elusive before. This time, Mark was the one who was dumbfounded, only able to listen to Jackson continue his quiet outpouring.

"I called you a chicken -- but I guess deep down, I was the one who was a coward after all." Jackson gave him an unaffected smile, slightly playful.

Mark protested softly. "It wasn't your fault. But... I thought I was really obvious. You really couldn't sense my crush at all?"

The word crush made Jackson smile and Mark blush at his satisfied, smug grin. But Jackson's voice was soft when he answered.

"I thought... maybe. But then I convinced myself it was a trick of my mind, that I was thinking too much, that you only saw me as your younger brother's best friend, an immature brat. It was pretty painful for me," he laughed, then looked up to meet Mark's eyes, lowering his voice. "I didn't dare to hope... that someone like you --"

Mark's breath caught in his throat, his heart twinging. " _Baichi_ ," he interrupted roughly, slipping momentarily into Chinese, then added the insult in English to express how _xinteng_ he felt. "You idiot. What do you mean someone like me?"

Jackson looked amused. He gestured vaguely. " _Ge_ ," he emphasized the word teasingly, with exaggerated respect, making Mark shiver, "Have you _seen_ yourself in the mirror? Or the number of girls at school in love with you? If that's not bad enough, you're literally an artist. You see such creativity... such beauty in everything, in the world, in _me_. I was afraid you would stop looking at me like I was a work of art. I was afraid you would lose interest in talking to me. I was trying so hard it was embarrassing. I felt like such a peasant compared to you, a coarse and unrefined country bumpkin --"

"What are you talking about?" Mark cut in again indignantly, sounding like a broken recorder, but as usual he couldn't stand listening to Jackson belittling and disparaging himself. He, who knew more of Jackson's insecurities than anyone else, would be the last person who wanted to be the cause of any. He couldn't believe that Jackson thought all these wonderful things about him, respected and idolized him so much, placed him on a pedestal. it was dizzying. So he sounded unstable, accusing when he retorted:

"You're so... so..." He couldn't find the words to express himself, and it was frustrating. Eventually, he settled on blurting out loudly, " _You're_ the one who outshines me."

 

Jackson was staring at him with sparkling eyes like he had stepped out of a page of Mark's manga. He obediently didn't argue, just finished his confession with humble honesty.

"I'm actually... not as experienced as I pretend to be. I'm more innocent than I look." He bit his lip, and Mark felt a rush of affection, because he knew Jackson could be achingly innocent sometimes. "And more passive than everyone thinks. I'm afraid of rejection too, especially by one person." He looked up at Mark meaningfully.

"I'm not everyone." Mark gave his own words from months ago back to him, moved beyond words by Jackson's bravery in revealing his vulnerability. He was so much more courageous and giving than he gave himself credit for. "And I'm passive too," he added gently.

"You are," Jackson conceded, chuckling for the first time in their serious and emotional conversation. "That's why I knew how much you like me... so much that you overcame your passivity and took action, lost control when Jinyoung kissed me."

"Are you gloating?" Mark grumbled, still a little upset over the kiss when Jackson reminded him. Jackson only gave him his sugar-sweet close-lipped smirk. "And who said I like you anyway?" he coughed to hide behind machismo.

Jackson just leaned back to study him, eyes hooded and admiring. He laughed, a beautiful sound of contentment and pleasure from deep inside his chest. "I like you," he said quietly and unembarrassedly, this time the first to confess without any hesitations. "I like you, Mark Tuan." He said it again.

When Mark didn't reply, he switched to Mandarin. " _Wo xi huan ni_." His smile was growing cheekier by the moment, as he followed it with professions of love in Korean, Cantonese, Japanese, French, and all the languages he knew, sweetly but persistently, until Mark caved and whispered gruffly, cheeks blooming:

"I like you too."

"I liked you first," Jackson shot back immediately, not missing a beat.

"No, I liked you first." In another heartbeat, they both lost their inhibitions about saying the taboo three words and were arguing to claim the place of the person who had fallen first. Neither were willing to lose.

 

Mark couldn't believe they had been dancing around each other for so long, neither aware that the other felt the exact same painful, thrilling and heart-aching way he did, when all they had to do to resolve it was be honest. Truly, they had both been silly, lovestruck and blind idiots. But he was so grateful they had at long last cleared up all the misunderstandings, mysteries and confusion.

They noticed for about one second that Jaebum and Jinyoung were taking awfully long in the backyard, and still hadn't returned after all their confessions and sweet nothings. But they didn't bother to check what they were doing, in fact were glad for more time together and privacy so Jackson could take Mark's face in his callused hands and start kissing him this time, slow and searching and intense, unbelievably hot. Jackson's lips were like electricity and his lightest touch lit Mark up.

Soon, Jackson had gotten even more carried away than Mark had before, gently lowering Mark down to the floor to cover his body with his too without ever breaking the connection of their lips. He climbed over Mark and began rubbing his body up against Mark's in a suggestive and arousing way that made Mark gasp, which made Jackson muffle a frustrated noise against his lips and slide his tongue between. In a few moments, he had Mark pinned to the ground with the heavy weight of his body and his arms braced around his shoulders trapping Mark in.

 

"I can't believe Jinyoung stole your first kiss," Mark grouched again later in his bedroom (Jaebum and Jinyoung had come back in finally reconciled and beaming, hand in hand and the party had naturally turned into a sleepover with the formation of two new couples in one night -- Mark pointedly avoided thinking what his best friend was doing to his brother one room away). Although he knew he was being uncharitable and he should in fact thank Jinyoung for pushing him into revealing his heart, he couldn't help it.

"Um, hyung..." Jackson piped up from where he was chastely curled up against Mark's side.

Mark stroked his hair sleepily, marveling at how soft it was. "Hmm?" he hummed comfortably and Jackson snuggled closer, laughter rumbling in his chest and breath tickling Mark's cheek.

"I don't want to burst your bubble or anything... but how did you know that was my first kiss?"

Mark bolted upright, dislodging Jackson and the blankets pulled over them. Jackson groaned softly and tugged him back down, but he stubbornly remained in a sitting position.

"Come on. You've gotta be kidding me. How many blows do you think I can take tonight?" He tried to glower fiercely at Jackson in the dark.

Jackson murmured soothing wordless apologies and coaxed Mark to relax and lie back down beside him, giving him extra cuddles and whispering cute pleas for forgiveness and cheesy professions of all his love. Mark pretended to sulk for a while more, just to punish him. He rolled over to turn his back on Jackson just to see Jackson get flustered and worried that Mark was really mad and wouldn't forgive him. It brought tears to his eyes, to see so clearly how much he meant to Jackson. How could Mark hold such a minor trespass against him?

In truth, the kisses they had shared after the first two, snuggled up in bed with their limbs tangled blissfully, more than made up for the disappointment of discovering Jackson's first kiss wasn't his to keep. Falling asleep in Jackson's arms, it seemed like nothing else mattered. For the first time, Mark replayed his honeyed memories from the same bed as Jackson -- the heartbeats after their first kiss, Jackson looking at Mark as if he was the universe; as if Mark was his entire galaxy, and the last sweet words Jackson had whispered right by his ear just before he started snoring softly.

"I've had girlfriends before... but those kisses didn't mean anything."

Jackson's arms had tightened around his body in the moonlight, until Mark had relented and turned compliantly in his arms to face him.

"Now... you mean everything."

 

When Mark awoke the next morning, he found Jackson clutching his sketchbook to his chest, hugging it tightly even in his sleep. When Mark tried to loosen it, giggling giddily, he woke up yelping as though someone was trying to rob him.

"I'm never returning it!" Jackson hissed sleepily but fiercely, sticking out his tongue and looking ready to fight Mark. "You gave it to me; you're not allowed to take it back."


	6. Chapter 6

20.

When Jackson asked him, looking tentative, if Mark would mind him applying for his university, Mark was surprised.

"Why would I mind?" he queried, genuinely confused. He refrained from adding that he had been holding himself back from asking Jackson to enter the same school as him since they started dating, because he didn't want to influence Jackson's decision. Jackson had the right to choose the school which had the course he wanted to take most, and not just follow Mark to be with his boyfriend.

Mark didn't want to be selfish. But when Jackson brought the topic up himself, his heart couldn't help speeding up hopefully.

Jackson smiled and hesitated, studying him. "Nah... it's just that I know you really wanted to be independent and prove that you could do well in a new school by yourself, without any of us. I don't want to cramp your style." He shrugged offhandedly, but he had obviously given the matter some thought.

Mark was moved by the look of concern on his handsome face, his solicitousness and sensitivity. Even after they had been dating for two months by then, Jackson still surprised him every so often with an undiscovered, marvelous quality.

"Gaga," Mark chided, half laughing and half shaking his head hopelessly.

"What?" Jackson raised his brows, lips quirked. A smile played at their edges, threatening to burst into full brilliance. He looked relieved by Mark's positive response.

"Please come to my university," Mark declared solemnly, getting down on one knee as if he was proposing. Jackson squealed, not without glee.

He immediately kneeled down to help Mark up, grabbing his elbows and looking flustered. "What the hell are you doing? We're in public."

Mark refused to budge until he finished his confession, finally able to express all his feelings. "Baby, I've only been dreaming of going to the same college as you for the last three years. Do you think I would mind?"

Jackson squeaked again, flopping down dramatically and not caring about the stares they attracted. "Did you just call me baby?"

"No," Mark replied, straight-faced, getting up finally and reaching a hand down to pull Jackson to his feet too.

"Don't be cheeky, hyung. You're acting strange. Are you drunk?"

Mark shrugged and grinned at Jackson's indignant expression, too embarrassed to spout the cheesy truth that he might be drunk on happiness. He hadn't dared to hope Jackson shared the same desire as him, and even now couldn't imagine what two more years in the same school as Jackson would feel like. Actually, he could. It would be paradise.

 

And so, impossibly, his twentieth year looked set to be even more blissful and exciting than his nineteenth, simply because Jackson's presence was like a lightbulb in his life, unfailingly lighting his days up splendidly. Mark could hardly wait for the semester to begin, dreamily sketching romantic school-romance trope scenarios into his sketchbook -- library dates and boys-bathroom kisses and stolen touches in between classes. He was careful not to let Mina see how skilled he was at drawing boys love in case she wanted to collaborate with him on a yaoi manga next, as their partnership was very well-received with readers of the magazine and their manga had been contracted by a publishing company to be released in book form soon.

Without hesitation, Jinyoung chose to ascend to Jaebum's university too. Mark was gratified since with Jinyoung to accompany and look out for his best friend, he needn't worry about Jaebum being lonely anymore.

For their first Valentine's day, Jackson surprised him with a custom-made couple tee. It was white but had the word MARKSON printed on the back in bright block letters.

"Nice shade, right?" Jackson said proudly. "It's called Chartreuse green."

"Um..."

Jackson placed his hand over his chest dramatically. "Please don't ask me what Markson means. You'll break my heart."

Mark rapped his head with his knuckles, finally unable to repress his laughter. "There's no way I'm wearing this out of the house."

 

When they went out with Jinyoung and Jaebum the next day, they snidely pretended not to know Mark and Jackson, walking a distance away from them.

"You're such an embarrassment, hyung!" Jinyoung had wailed when he saw them decked in the identical couple tees. Mark immediately flushed bright red, mostly because Jackson had just pinched his butt cheek to remind him of his promise.

Mark groaned at the memory, darkly muttering to himself, _you're so whipped_.

He was definitely not going to let Jackson out of his bed when they got home till he had given Mark every single of the twenty photographs he promised in exchange for one afternoon wearing the tees. He knew he had Mark by the balls when Mark had shamefacedly asked him for pictures of his body, without clothes on. Both his upper and lower half.

The smirk that took over his face instantly when Mark uttered the words made him regret them immediately. He felt defiant and mortified at the same time, but stood his ground because he felt he had a completely justifiable right to ask his boyfriend for pictures for scientific -- fine, masturbating purposes. After all, they were both adult men with healthy desires. There was no need to make a big juvenile fuss out of it.

But before he could justify himself with any of these reasonings, Jackson silenced him with one simple sentence.

"Mark, you're a perv."

His shit-eating grin had spread entirely over his plump, extremely kissable lips and overtaken his whole face. Leering at Mark, he looked like the reincarnation of Adonis.

Mark started wheezing on his own spit, face burning now, but Jackson continued, looking satisfied and unruffled, "I like it."

"I like it when you're aggressive," Jackson repeated in a sexy drawl when, advancing as usual when Mark clammed up with embarrassment. Mark immediately blushed deeper, taking it to mean that he had been overly forward.

"I didn't mean that," Jackson said and he realized he had muttered his thoughts aloud. "I just like it when you make the first move, like when you kissed me. It makes me feel loved." This time, Jackson blushed too at his own words.

Mark finally felt less embarrassed. He knew Jackson liked it when he took the initiative, that it gave him proof and evidence of Mark's feelings. He resolved to be more brave and take more risks with their relationship and not just rely on Jackson to make all the moves. He didn't want their relationship to be a one-way street.

However, for some reason he had asked Mark to wait until after Valentine's day, claiming he wanted to work out a little longer to get his body into better shape. Mark didn't tell him honestly that he was already buff enough to be Mr Universe because Jackson's ego didn't need any more inflating and his pride didn't need deflating.

Now, he knew what the wait was for. He felt a little like he had been manipulated, even though he had made the first request. When he tried to figure out why his head hurt so he gave up and resignedly pulled on the t-shirt which was comfortable and of good material and would be a perfect present without the dorky, flamboyant word on the back. Maybe he could bleach the word off after this one date because he actually wanted to live in the clothes Jackson gave him. He was kidding -- he would never alter or mess with the first Valentine's day gift Jackson had given him. Jackson knew he liked to keep a low profile, but he seemed determined to flaunt their budding relationship to the world. It seemed like he wanted everyone and their grandmothers to know he owned Mark.

 

A few people turned to stare at their shirts as they walked down the street, although they weren't holding hands, just walking side by side. Maybe they would assume Markson was the name of a school or an establishment and they were in uniform.

A few teenage girls who passed them ogled and burst into high-pitched giggles. Okay, fat chance of that. Jackson hammed it up for them, slinging an affectionate arm around Mark's shoulder, and they squeaked. Mark couldn't bear to hold it against them for probably being innocent fujoshis like Mina, easily excitable by a little bromance.

They were the centre of attention everywhere they went, especially since Jackson didn't let go of him even after the girls left. He seemed to be bursting with pride and Mark would have been touched if he weren't so mortified. Jackson basked in the attention like a lizard sunning itself on a rock and he scuttled away from it like some sun-fearing nocturnal animal.

Luckily, he started to notice the eyes a little less as the afternoon wore on and Jaebum and Jinyoung stopped messing around with them too, returning to huddle in their group of four. But his younger brother didn't stop teasing them mercilessly and when Jackson looked miffed Mark was the one who whispered cajolingly in his ear, "Ignore him. He's probably going through belated teenage rebellion."

They both drove Jinyoung crazy by refusing to tell him what they were giggling about.

Jaebum looked amused, merely lifting his brows at the obnoxiously couply attire, something that would never have happened merely two years ago. Mark watched his arm settle quietly and proprietarily over the back of Jinyoung's chair as he gazed at him talking animatedly with contentment just to listen, and thought of how amazing it was, the ways their four lives had veered and intersected with each other's. It was something no one could have predicted on the first day of his second year of high school when they met Jackson and everything started.

It'd been a journey to here and now, one that was sometimes rocky and uncertain, sometimes painful and awkward as they went through growing pains and adolescent angst and complicated feelings. But it was one Mark would never have traded for anything. Even when Jackson was busily tearing down both their reputations by parading around in couple clothing on Valentine's day, Mark was still so undimmably proud of the fine young man he'd grown up into from that sixteen-year-old pubescent boy.

He felt an unshakable sense that all their relationships, his own with Jinyoung, Jackson and Jaebum, had been tested and strengthened in their own ways. He wondered if Jaebum would have lost his crush on Mark even without the appearance of his brother, and felt certain he would have discovered eventually that it wasn't right. Because when the right feeling, the right person came along, Mark knew from his own personal experience that it was unmistakable. It was like a jigsaw puzzle. There was only one piece that fit into his, inimitable, irreplaceable.

 

The tension that had lingered in the air between him and Jaebum in their teenage years had dissipated, leaving them freedom to grow closer as platonic friends. And Mark realized anew what a good best friend Jaebum was, steady, reliable, the best in the world.

Their clique comprising the four of them, and sometimes including Youngjae, Yugyeom and Bambam wasn't as close-knit or inseparable as they had been in junior high and high school. They had drifted apart due to their graduating to different schools and going down different roads towards their ambitions, but it was a healthy distance that had grown between them, one that allowed for space but always tugged them back together to their nucleus with invisible strings when the space grew too yawning. By the gradual and almost imperceptible ways their relationships had changed, they had all drawn closer as a result.

Most importantly, Mark now knew one incontrovertible fact -- wherever their respective paths led them, these were the people he wanted to, and would make an effort to be friends with for life.

 

One of the first discoveries he made in the early, giddy days of their relationship was that kissing Jackson was like a narcotic. He wasn't surprised, because Jackson had always looked like a good kisser, confident and giving. But he turned out to be an even better kisser than Mark expected.

Although they saw each other in school every day during their free periods, at mealtimes and between classes, going home together whenever they were dismissed at the same time and waiting for each other when they weren't, it still wasn't enough.

Jackson was the kind of addictive that even if Mark could indulge in every minute, every second, it still wouldn't be enough. He wanted more, more, and still more. He felt greedy, but unrepentant.

He was gratified that Jackson seemed to share the same need to constantly be in touch with him, both electronically and physically. Texting wasn't enough, neither was talking on the phone. Their hands had to be on each other every waking moment. He had grown so attached to the safe refuge called Jackson that anywhere that wasn't by his side no longer felt like home.

Kissing, hugging, petting through their clothing -- Jackson was an affectionate friend and a doubly affectionate lover. Mark quickly got attuned and influenced by his touchy and physical tendencies, being initiated to the heady highs of skinship, especially with a person one loved and desired.

But that wasn't to say that their relationship was entirely physical. In fact, they spent more time than Mark would have thought talking, about everything under the sun -- themselves, each other, their families and lives before they met. Jackson was an inexhaustible spring of information Mark wanted to drink in till he knew his boyfriend like the back of his own hand.

 

They were on a date one afternoon, when Jackson had literally whisked him out of his classes and proposed playing hooky like that day back in high school. Mark was none more capable of resisting him now than he had been back then.

They even went back to the same place again. Jackson laughed himself breathless complaining that they were too old and stiff to climb the towering wall now but they eventually succeeded with sheer strength of willpower, as Mark never doubted they would. _Impossible_ was a word that meant challenge to Jackson.

They flopped down on their backs, exhausted but accomplished, and admired the same sky as two years ago. It was hard to believe anything had changed at all, especially with the same silver sound of Jackson's laughter ribboning by his ear. When Mark closed his eyes he almost expected to open them to see both of them back in uniform and friendship, flirting with each other more and more dangerously, raising the stakes and playing with fire.

Almost two years had elapsed since then, but it seemed like no time at all. Mark was glad that Jackson was still beside him. He hoped Jackson would visit this place again with him, two years later.

 

Jackson reached down for his hand with boyish shyness, curling their fingers together slowly and making him jump with pleasure. He tightened his clasp over that precious hand and smiled up at the sunlit sky.

"What was your first impression of me?" Jackson blurted out, without preamble.

Mark shifted his head a little to face him, not expecting the question. He frowned, thinking of how to answer. Jackson eagerly watched his pensive expression.

" _Hen qianzou_ ," Mark replied seriously after a suspenseful pause, his lips twitching as Jackson bristled, drawing up in indignation.

"What about yours of me?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice, and readied himself for vengeance.

Jackson fired back without having to think, smart answer ready on his tongue. " _Ruo bu jin feng_."

Mark snorted. He had basically just said Jackson looked like he was asking for a beating, while Jackson had called him "too weak to withstand a gust of wind". He couldn't figure out which was the bigger insult.

"But," he wasn't prepared for Jackson to continue, "then I got to know you and found out how much stronger you are than you look."

His voice was deep and quiet, the only glint of teasing in his eyes dark on Mark. They told him Jackson knew exactly how to get him by his Achilles' heel.

Mark groaned and raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, you win." He pretended to shiver. "Now stop the mushy talk."

"It's not mushy," Jackson retorted, his voice softening. "It's true. I... really admire strong people."

The shyness of his voice told Mark that he was more serious than he was pretending to be. He was indescribably moved. He knew that as an athlete, Jackson idolized and aspired to be like people with tremendous inner strength. He didn't think he was at that level, but he still felt flattered.

"It's your confidence," Jackson replied smoothly as if he had spoken his thoughts aloud. They knew each other so well by now that he seemed to be able to read Mark's thoughts sometimes.

"Confident?" Mark repeated dubiously. "I might be pretty strong, but I don't think I'm very..."

"You are," Jackson replied firmly, leaving no room for disagreement. "Just the fact that you don't feel the need to blatantly flaunt it, shows how confident you are.

"You have the sexiest kind of confidence," Jackson continued smoothly, as if it was National Compliment Mark Day. "The quiet kind."

Mark was blushing by now, and Jackson hadn't even touched him. He really knew how to work Mark's buttons.

 

"Nah." He waved away Jackson's generous praise self-deprecatingly, feeling the need to be modest. "By quiet, you mean boring."

"I've never thought you were boring," Jackson replied immediately in his straightforward way, not so easily thrown off course.

"You have to say that because you're my boyfriend." Mark grinned at him, blushing with pleasure. He still got a kick whenever he had the opportunity to use the word boyfriend, so he definitely found one whenever he could.

Jackson allowed a smile, pinching Mark's cheek as if he was adorable, but went on seriously extolling Mark's virtues. "No, I would still say the same thing even if we were only friends. Mark... your personality is captivating."

He was shaken. No one had ever said something so sweet to him before. His looks had been admired by many, but the only person who Mark felt had ever truly seen him, beyond them, was the boy with earnest eyes lying next to him. That was how he knew Jackson meant every word he said.

So he didn't protest further or refuse to accept the compliments, just graciously murmuring, "Thank you."

Jackson shook his head and covered his hand, flashing his teeth in a devilish grin. "Pleasure is all mine, _boyfriend_. Seriously, you have no idea how much fun I have telling you how amazing you are. I could do that for days."

Mark had no doubt he could.

"I just..." Jackson hesitated. "It's been on my mind since we started dating, but I remembered telling Jinyoung when we were just met that you were pretty. I didn't mean to sound so superficial, but I was sixteen..."

Mark laughed in sheer amusement, then covered his mouth sheepishly.

"Did he tell you?" Jackson asked, and looked unsurprised when he nodded. "I knew it. I just... worried you'd misunderstand. About the reason why I liked you."

Mark laughed again, more softly. "I told Jinyoung back then that you were manly," he reminded Jackson gently. "That wasn't any better."

Jackson finally laughed too at the memory. "I was flattered," he said, smiling slyly. He touched Mark's fingertips, eyes finding his. "Very."

"Me too." Mark forced himself to look straight into his eyes instead of avoiding their intensity. "And..." he added, unable to resist being a little cheeky, "I'm not above using my looks to get the people I like to look at me, so I can show them my personality."

Jackson stared at him, looking astonished by his words. Then he gave a surprised yelp. "Mark, _mei xiang dao ni xin ji na me zhong_! (I didn't know you were so cunning)" he screeched, covering his face and laughing hysterically.

Mark laughed too, peeling his hands off to look at Jackson's pink face. "Seriously though..." He felt he owed Jackson an expression of the gratitude he felt for so earnestly wanting to let Mark know he hadn't merely fallen for his face. "Thank you for saying this. I already knew, but hearing you put it into words does make me feel much better."

Jackson melted into a smile, his expression softening. He caressed Mark's cheek. "Anytime."

 

Jackson suddenly laughed out loud, interrupting the silence they had lapsed into after a few minutes.

"What?" Mark looked over, already amused before he shared the joke, his humour contagious.

Jackson shook his head, pressing his lips together. "Nothing. I just remembered how quiet you were the last time we came here. It was so difficult to get you to say more than three words in a row that I felt like I had won a gold medal every time I managed to."

Mark blushed at his description, protesting that he was exaggerating. Jackson just continued smiling and quietened him by saying truthfully:

"It was adorable."

Jackson smiled sweetly at his reaction, curling his hand behind Mark's head and threading his fingers through his hair longingly, but he just leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Mark's forehead and Mark just about stopped breathing.

When he regained his breath, he admitted, "I was super awkward at that time. If not for you guys, I might never have gotten out of my shell."

Jackson just looked at him, sparkling eyes encouraging Mark to go on. Mark smiled, knowing Jackson was training him not to be afraid to speak his mind.

He took a soft breath, and continued, speaking as he thought, without any filter for the first time. He felt like his words didn't need to pass through his brain first before leaving his mouth, when he was around Jackson.

"Sometimes, people think I don't have opinions or thoughts of my own because I don't speak much. But that's not true."

Jackson regarded him for awhile, eyes wide and serious as he considered Mark's statement. "It's definitely not," he finally said, smiling. "I know better than anyone how many thoughts you have. I'd never mistake you for just an airheaded pretty boy." Without Mark even spelling it out, Jackson had sensitively intuited the labels he hated being given based on his seemingly "dull" personality.

 

Jackson's kind and perceptive words reminded Mark of the time he had called himself _culu_ , coarse and unrefined, boorish. He knew Jackson saw him as _siwen_ and _shenao_ , and himself as lacking these qualities. But Mark disagreed with his opinion.

Jackson was skilled in drawing people out of their shells, even the very tightly-closed ones like Mark. But Mark noticed that sometimes when people tried to do the same to him, he had the tendency to deflect their prying questions, to hide behind humour and levity. He knew that like everyone, Jackson wanted to share his most private and personal confidences with someone he trusted. And Mark wanted, more than anything, to be the person who managed to draw him out.

"Tell me something," he blurted out vaguely. Jackson's blank, questioning expression told him he would have to elaborate and be more direct.

He took a deep breath. "Tell me something people think about you that you don't like."

Jackson's momentarily naked expression told him he had hit a nerve, a raw spot. But not wanting to back off, Mark smiled encouragingly.

"It's alright," he said quietly, making sure not to break their eye contact. "You can trust me."

 

Mark had never seen Jackson's expression so... so exposed before. He looked like Mark's simple words had stripped him off all defenses, leaving him vulnerable as a snail without a shell. Mark's heart went out to him.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to --" he started, but Jackson interrupted, surprising him.

"You know everyone sees me as a goofball, the resident comedian right?"

Mark nodded silently, listening raptly.

Jackson sighed softly. "Well, I guess... sometimes, I wonder if that's all there is to me. Will people still like me and want to be my friend if I don't make them laugh? Sometimes..." Jackson lowered his eyes, looking embarrassed. His voice grew small, almost inaudible. "Sometimes, I feel like a phony. I can't tell what's the real me and what's an act I put on anymore."

Mark felt a pang in his chest. "Jacks, you know you don't have to pretend to be cheerful if you feel sad. We'll still be your friends even if you're not funny anymore. I promise."

"..."

"Anyway, you're hot when you brood." Mark couldn't believe how brazen he was being, outrageously flirting. Jackson's rose-coloured cheeks and wide eyes confirmed his OOC-ness.

Jackson finally cleared his throat and laughed with appreciation at his cold joke. "You're funny, Markiepooh. You have a way better sense of humour than me."

Mark snorted disbelievingly. "Whatever."

He was saddened to find out that Jackson thought his friends liked him because of his ability to make them laugh, and not for his genuine self. But he knew that whatever he said, it wouldn't be able to dissolve Jackson's deeply entrenched self-doubts totally.

 

He took a deep breath and mustered up his courage, deciding to go for it and say the best words he could think of. They weren't exactly the most eloquent or convincing, but they were from his heart. And Mark really wanted Jackson to know how he felt.

"Do you know what I like most about you?" he asked huskily, trying to make his voice sound seductive but only succeeding in making himself blush.

Jackson looked up at him, eyes widening, appearing half-amused and half-aroused. "I'm all ears." His lowered voice was effortlessly seductive.

Mark launched into Mandarin without even thinking about it. It just felt natural.

" _Wo jiu shi xi huan ni zhen shi, bu zuo zuo_." _I just like your realness and unpretentiousness_.

Jackson's soft intake of breath made his heart swell and was worth all the embarrassment at his bold proclamation.

"Yi-en..." Jackson called his name tenderly after a few moments of processing his words. Mark couldn't remember if it was the first time Jackson had ever called his Chinese name; but it was definitely the time he wanted to remember as first. He wanted to etch Jackson's unique pronunciation of the two syllables of his name into his memory forever, to replay again and again.

"Thank you." This time, it was Jackson who thanked him meaningfully. "After what you said, I've finally realized who I want to be." He smiled so sweetly.

"Who?" Mark asked, a little breathless from the dazzling vision.

Jackson held his eyes and said, "No one else except... the person who's worthy of being loved by you."

Mark's breath caught in his throat at Jackson's words, somehow honest and ridiculously romantic at the same time. Showing Mark everything about himself like this, Jackson was simply breathtaking.

"Jia-er... you're more than worthy. You're _extraordinary_." Mark flushed at his grandiose words, flowery words he had never used before in his life, never felt the need to. But now, he felt that it was terribly important to use these precise words to convey to Jackson how entitled he was to all the love Mark could offer and more.

The amount of love and adoration Jackson deserved was vaster than even the endless sky above them, especially since he didn't think he deserved it. Mark knew that when it came to love, it was difficult to accept one's due, to not think that one was way too lucky or fortunate, especially when they had been so blessed to find each other. But they needed to believe that they had met because they both deserved the other, and neither was giving or taking more.

"Ge," Jackson said hoarsely, reduced to his age by Mark's words in a moment. "You're so _titie_ , so _xixin_..." _So thoughtful and considerate._ In Mandarin, his confession sounded even more melodious.

"Only to you, _baobei_." Mark took the opportunity of Jackson's mouth falling open at the smoothness with which he delivered the endearment before he swooped in to claim Jackson's forehead with his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the smut will be in the next chapter, because i wanted to write a little more relationship development first! :)


	7. Chapter 7

After the heart-to-heart conversation at the seemingly nondescript but romantic brick ledge that had become their unofficial "couple spot", Mark felt a lot closer to Jackson emotionally.

But that wasn't enough. He wanted to get closer to Jackson physically as well. Jackson had kept his word about the photographs in exchange for the couple tees and obligingly sent Mark risque selfies in racy poses which Mark filed in his password-locked Jackson folder, and they had hot and heavy frotting sessions with healthy regularity.

But maybe it was being twenty -- one of the most hormonal ages for a boy -- that drove Mark up the wall.

He felt ashamed of his insatiable appetite and cravings for indulging in Jackson, especially since they had agreed and Jackson seemed to be content to take things slowly.

This was one of the times his vanilla image and inhibitions got in the way -- when all Mark wanted was to seduce his lover into looking at him with desire but Jackson gazed at his every move with eyes filled with worshipful adoration and laughed and chuckled at everything Mark did, cooing that he was adorable when all Mark wanted him to do was to tear off his clothes and ravish him, telling Mark he was so sexy Jackson couldn't hold himself back anymore.

He had promised himself to be more proactive, but saying outrightly, "I want you to fuck me," to Jackson was still something beyond his capability.

And so he used his creativity to come up with ways and means to subtly arouse Jackson and hint to him that Mark was ready and willing for them to progress to the next base. The only thing now that could make their relationship more perfect and intimate was to give himself to Jackson.

The yaoi mangas he voraciously read helped him to educate himself on sexually appealing poses to attract his lover's attention and alight their libido, but they also fed his own urges which grew more desperate.

 

On Jackson's birthday, Mark invited him to his house for a celebration. When Jackson arrived, looking spruced up and edible, Mark ran his tongue over his lips and tried not to pant like a bloodhound at the scent of meat.

Jackson looked around and blinked innocently, smiling brightly to see Mark. He spoke the words Mark was thinking. "You look incredible."

Mark was wearing a violet sweater Jackson had given him. It was already oversized on Jackson so Mark's more wiry frame looked like he was swimming in it. The sleeves hung over his wrists, making him look even smaller and more vulnerable. Mark was aware of what he was doing as he moved one hand to cover his smile and Jackson followed his actions with hungry eyes, ran his eyes over Mark's body from head to toe.

"Thanks. You don't look bad yourself." Mark fluttered his eyelashes and hoped he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt.

Luckily, Jackson didn't seem to find his forced coquettishness and amateur attempts at seduction off-putting. His smile widened appreciatively and he blushed with pleasure at Mark's comment, stepping into the house comfortably and brushing past Mark. The hair on Mark's arms tingled with electricity.

"Where's everyone?" Jackson seemed to be expecting to see Jaebum and Jinyoung too and Mark tried not to think that Jackson didn't want to spend alone time with him. He needed confidence for his seduction to be successful.

So he smiled cheerfully and said, "They went on a date. It's just you and me tonight."

He didn't realize how questionable his words had sounded until Jackson turned sharply to look at him, stricken. He swallowed, eyes straying from Mark's face and combing down his body swallowed by Jackson's sweater again, seeming to see Mark in a new light at the information that the house was empty.

"Oh." Jackson's voice sounded deeper when he replied. He tore his eyes off Mark and shifted away a little, tips of his ears reddening. When Mark ran a hand lightly down his shoulder, he jumped, then apologized.

Mark tried not to be hurt, reassuring himself it was a good thing Jackson looked as nervous as he felt to spend their first night alone in a long time with him. He had decided to go all out, to the extent that he had even used part of the money he earned from the manga to purchase a pair of tickets for a weekend cruise holiday for his parents, telling them to go away for a short trip to relax and have some alone time together. They were so happy and grateful that Mark had nearly felt guilty. But he was too excited about his plan being set into motion that he didn't have much time for that.

Now, it wasn't guilt but anticipation eating at his stomach. It was now or never -- he knew he had to take drastic measures if he wanted to make this happen because for some reason Jackson seemed to be taking a step back on the consummation of their relationship and letting Mark call the shots about when he was ready. Maybe it was because Mark would be the one taking the role of bottom -- and he had discovered that Jackson was even more consummate of a gentleman than he had expected. He knew that no matter how much Jackson wanted this too, he wouldn't broach the subject until Mark expressed unequivocally that he was prepared because he didn't want to rush into things and hurt Mark.

So Mark knew that the ball was in his court now. For once in his life, he had to reach out and grab hold of what he wanted.

He had texted Jaebum and subtly hinted at him to ask Jinyoung out on a date on the evening of Jackson's birthday, and hopefully get him to sleep over at Jaebum's house till the next morning too, just to play it safe. Mark didn't know how long he would need with Jackson alone and he decided to cover all bases. He asked his best friend instead of his brother because he knew Jaebum would be less likely to tease him and willingly oblige Mark on his request without asking too much. He had planned everything to the T, but on the actual day, he was still on tenterhooks, his stomach in nervous knots.

Jackson seemed to sense the electricity crackling in the air between them, how the air was a few degrees hotter than usual and his easy grin remained but his body seemed tensed up. Mark was suddenly hyperaware of his own body too, shuffling around his own familiar house awkwardly and nearly tripping over his feet when he shuffled  them restlessly.

 

They were sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, eyes on their plates as they took bites of the cake Mark had bought from an expensive French bakery. It was delicious, but his anxiety made him unable to savour it. He didn't dare to look up and meet his boyfriend's eyes, which was absurd since they usually stared at each other as thirstily as men drinking water in at the Sahara desert.

His mind was so focused on sex right now, he honestly didn't have any appetite. He thought of the condoms in his bedroom table upstairs, beside the bottle of newly-purchased lotion which he had read could be used as lube and felt his stomach flip over. He wondered if Jackson carried a spare condom around in his wallet like Mark knew some guys did. He wondered if Jackson had one now, in the back pocket of his skinny jeans.

He nearly dropped his fork when Jackson's voice curled into his ear like smoke, his mind was so unfocused.

"Did you know..." Jackson started in a gravelly voice, slowly putting down his fork beside his half-eaten cake, "I have an awful weakness for sweater paws?"

"Sweater paws?" Mark squeaked, swallowing his mouthful of cake and placing his fork down thankfully too. Jackson's eyes were on his wrists hidden by the sleeves which slid down, exposing an inch of delicate skin when he bent his arms. It wasn't skin Jackson hadn't seen or even touched before, countless times, but his eyes zoomed in on it as if he was seeing Mark's body anew today. He didn't even know Jackson had still been so affected by his outfit after he noticed it at the door.

It made Mark's head spin more.

Jackson nodded, tongue slipping out to slowly lick the traces of cream from around his lips. Mark found himself thinking that it would probably be far more delicious to taste the cake from Jackson's lips than from his plate.

"Especially when it's you, in my sweater."

There was definitely carnal intent in Jackson's eyes, unmistakable when Mark forced himself to meet them without blushing. It made the pit fall out of his stomach, his heart do backflips. He felt almost weak with relief that it was evident Jackson wanted this as much as him.

 

"No, I didn't know," he answered Jackson's question, a few beats too late. Jackson looked dazed, like he had already forgotten what he had said, as if his mind was as chaotic as Mark's right now.

He smiled wolfishly, lips drawing back to reveal his teeth. He lowered his voice and Mark shivered at Jackson's frank words.

"You look so fuckable right now."

 

There was a suspended silence, like the air between them had stopped moving, thick with animal lust. Mark felt a heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. He crossed his legs uncomfortably. Jackson shifted in his seat, eyes never leaving his.

"Then fuck me."

Mark couldn't believe the words with which he broke the silence. Jackson obviously couldn't either, his beautiful almond eyes widening, then flashing black. A positively debauching smile slowly spread across his face as he realized what Mark wanted, what he had been planning.

Jackson looked around again, comprehension dawning in his eyes at the perfect opportunity, the most romantic date possible for their first time.

"So," he said thoughtfully, and Mark swore he almost shuddered and jizzed his pants, "Is anyone going to be home?"

"Not till tomorrow morning." Mark didn't sound like himself, his voice high and eager. He wanted to crawl over the table and kiss Jackson stupid right where he was seated. Fuck waiting and courtship and foreplay; he wanted to ravish Jackson and rip off his clothes and shove his tongue down his throat ungracefully and savagely right in the dining room.

 

The only thing he wanted more than that... was for Jackson to ravage him.

And so Mark whipped out his last deadly move. He deliberately ran his tongue over his teeth, making sure Jackson saw it. His teeth which Mark knew, besides sweater paws, were another of Jackson's biggest downfalls.

It had been Jackson's mistake to tell Mark about how adorably sexy he thought Mark's shark teeth were, and how every time he smiled Jackson died a hundred deaths preventing himself from grabbing Mark and running his own tongue over his little fanglike canines.

As he had hoped, it was the last straw for Jackson. Mark hid a triumphant smile and spike of dizzy pleasure at Jackson's audible intake of breath and the way his shoulders tensed up like he was clutching at the edges of his chair.

"Mark, don't goad me..." Jackson said, his voice low and warning now. He looked pained, and added in a strained whisper, "I won't be able to control myself."

"Then don't." Mark felt like a braver, bolder and more fearless upgraded version of himself had taken over his body, possessed him like in a supernatural manga. But he liked it. He was coasting on the heady thrill of Jackson's obvious desire for him. "Do whatever you want to me. Tonight." He flickered his eyes up to Jackson, calculatedly peering up at him through his lashes. "Ka-yee... Make me scream your name all night long."

It was the first time Mark had called Jackson's Cantonese name, and with such wanton challenge in his eyes. It seemed to finally break Jackson and make him snap.

 

The dining table was hard and cold through the thin fabric of his ripped jeans, slightly uncomfortable. It was the first time Mark had ever sat on it but it felt as natural as breathing when Jackson moved across the distance between them in two predatory strides, effortlessly lifted him off the ground with hands beneath his arms and carried him with aching gentleness to perch on the edge of the table.

He crowded between Mark's legs, spreading them open with his hands on Mark's knees and then running them up his thighs, fingers dancing teasingly along his inner thighs and making his skin burn through the fabric. His hands stopped at the apex of Mark's thighs and settled there, fitting naturally. His crotch nudged Mark's, their zippers grinding with harsh friction against each other. Mark needed the layers of denim to disappear.

It seemed perfectly orchestrated as one thing led to another, as if they had rehearsed the steps into a seamless, fluid dance. Mark had been afraid he would end up getting fucked on his dining table -- even with all his newfound boldness, he would be unable to look his family in the eye after that but Jackson seemed touchingly considerate for him, having thought of all the possibilities and not letting his hormones carry him away.

Though Mark had lured him into it, he still seemed to want to make their first time as romantic and perfect and painless for Mark as possible, which meant carrying him with Mark's legs wrapped around his waist and Jackson's hands possessive and strong beneath his ass up the stairs to Mark's room, feeling Jackson's desire hard against his own throbbing crotch with every step closer to his bed.

 

Mark thought Jackson would throw him roughly down onto his bed and climb over him looking beastly like the _seme_ s in yaoi mangas, but despite his unsteady breathing and footsteps, sounding more out of breath from arousal than Mark's weight, he lowered Mark with chivalrous gentleness down onto his freshly made sheets, gazing down at him all the while with reverent and disbelieving eyes.

Mark clung needily to him even after Jackson set him down, his nails raking at Jackson's biceps and his ankles unwilling to unlock from around Jackson's firm butt and powerfully muscled thighs. Mark was so horny, he was panting like a dog in heat. It was humiliating and he was grateful Jackson was tactful enough not to mock him.

Jackson laughed with pleasure, a low sound that addressed Mark's dick directly. He groaned and squirmed in his suddenly too-tight pants. Jackson's eyes darkened as they flickered down to his tented crotch, which he abruptly reached down and grabbed without warning. Mark gasped in shock and intense pleasure, rocking up and bowing off the bed into Jackson's palm, wanting him to squeeze his dick again. He felt his underwear growing sticky with precome. He moaned and Jackson swore under his breath, letting go.

"Let me go lock the door first," he murmured in a sultry voice, and Mark gasped and nodded, tearing up with how tensely his body was strung and needing release. He reluctantly let Jackson go and he was back in record speed, crossing Mark's room and returning the fastest he had ever done.

When he was back in front of Mark, Mark looked up at Jackson, feeling vulnerable and splayed open beneath his stripping gaze, both figuratively and literally. He tried to look alluring but just felt like a hot mess, palming at his crotch through his underwear, having hastily undone his fly and kicked off his jeans while Jackson was closing and locking the door. He had hoped Jackson would undress him like in romantic mangas and animes but in the end he was too desperate and ended up undressing himself to touch himself first and ease the painful tension extremely unsexily.

He froze halfway bucking up into his own hand when Jackson returned and his eyes narrowed sternly, and Mark panicked that Jackson would be displeased he had started without him.

"Sorry." His voice sounded wrecked and insincere, unapologetic. "I couldn't wait." He squeezed his achingly hard dick through his briefs, looking up at Jackson and hoping he wouldn't notice, and nearly came prematurely.

Jackson shook his head, face softening. He reached down, eyes still holding Mark's, and deliberately groped his own cock, sensually slow. He let a low groan vibrate from his chest out of his mouth and Mark's mouth fell open, his hips canting up into air. Jackson was a beast.

"Now... what should I do with you?" Jackson didn't take his hand off his own crotch as he uttered the words lecherously, looking Mark over like he was a buffet, a _banquet_ spread out for Jackson's indulgence and decadent consumption. And Mark felt like he was. He wanted Jackson to dive right into him without ceremony, to rip into him and wreck him and fuck him animalistically in two till Mark couldn't walk.

He thought of Jackson's cock, which he already knew intimately by sight from studying the pictures Jackson had given him even more often than he studied his textbooks, and imagined it tearing him in two. His entire body felt weak with mounting desire.

 

"Mark, _baobao_..." Jackson straddled him without forewarning, breathtakingly aggressive, addressing him with the cute, infantile pet name he had saved Mark's contact as in his phone. The innocent, cutesy nickname sounded suggestive, lewd, anything but babyish now.

Jackson smirked, sitting astride his erection and grinding down with a sinful roll of his hips. Mark let slip a tortured groan. "Y-yeah?" he rasped.

Jackson's Cheshire grin widened further. His words were deceptively innocent, but rang with filthy implication. "Take my sweater off. We don't want to get it dirty."

"D-dirty?" Mark stuttered, barely able to think straight. Delicious heat shot to his core. "W-what are you going to do to me?" He wished Jackson would skip the foreplay and get on with it because he couldn't hold on much longer.

Jackson's giggle had never sounded so sexual or throaty. "Something that feels good. Take it off now, hyung."

Mark scrambled to obey Jackson's authoritative command, struggling to tug it off his arms under Jackson's unmoving weight. Jackson watched him silently, eyes like a hawk's trained on its prey.

"You're nasty," he muttered, face burning as Jackson stripped off his own sweater as if he was doing a commercial porn vid while shooting Mark a broad, salacious wink, revealing built shoulders and a ripped six-pack. Saliva collected in Mark's mouth as he drank in the sight, because Jackson had really _filled out_ since the last time Mark saw him topless. He wondered if Jackson had been getting ready to propose this to Mark soon too.

Jackson's eyes sparkled at him, laughing down with affection. He didn't call Mark out for the hypocrite he was, who had single-handedly seduced Jackson even before they got to dinner. It looked like they would be skipping Jackson's birthday dinner altogether but Mark was too worked up to even think about hunger right now.

"Guilty as charged." Jackson sounded unabashed, proud even. "The things I want to do to you, ge..." He reached down to caress Mark's cheek with unexpected gentleness, his shirt tossed to the floor of Mark's room. He grabbed his own sweater and carelessly tossed it to the side of Mark's bed without looking too. Mark felt naked as Jackson stared openly at his torso, which was pretty muscular and defined but not as broad as Jackson's.

 

Jackson reached down and with casual, tantalizing movements agonizingly slowly unzipped his own jeans. Mark shifted beneath him, his body strung tight as a rubber band and sure Jackson could feel his growing erection against his ass.

He whined a little as the lowering zipper revealed the sight of Jackson's clothed bulge with a damp spot darkening the front of his briefs. Jackson's eyes snapped up to his face, his own face blotchy with uneven dark red spots. His ears were red to the tips, his entire ears blushing and not just the tips. Jackson looked so disheveled and just-fucked even though they hadn't even started that Mark's breathing shallowed.

Jackson struggled with more ungracefulness than with his shirt to shove his pants down his thighs and off his legs, panting with relief and tossing them onto the floor behind him too when he finally freed himself. Mark's eyes were riveted on his dick, his fingers clutched in the bedsheets, clawing with a mixture of trepidation and all-consuming want. Jackson looked down at his wide eyes and the fuchsia blush staining his face, Mark's slender body clothed in only his underwear shivering and flushing under Jackson. He caressed the heat of Mark's cheeks, neck and chest with gentle and sensitive fingertips, moving adventurously down to Mark's nipples.

Mark moaned loudly with surprise, his whole body tensing and arching up when Jackson took both his nipples between two fingers at the same time and rubbed them between his callused fingertips. He might have let out a choked noise that sounded like, "Ah!"

Jackson smiled feline-like, pleased with his reaction. Mark blushed more in embarrassment, shivers rolling through his entire body, and Jackson murmured, "So cute, Mark.... You're so cute and innocent..."

 

Mark was breathing harshly, his nipples now hard and pebbly, barely able to think or talk coherently but he managed to protest with with belligerence, his dignity feeling slightly injured, "I know more than you about sex."

His words froze Jackson's smile and made his teasing movements pause. "Oh yeah?" He seemed to recover after a moment and continued mapping a trail down the plane of Mark's torso with his hands, scraping his blunt nails down the grid of his abdominal muscles and pecs.

Mark stiffened too, confused by the sudden tension in the air and the rigidity of Jackson's body against his. He recognized the familiar look in Jackson's eyes from all those encounters with Mina and Jaebum from the last few years -- a look he hadn't seen in months and so took a while to put his finger on. His heart seized when he realized his careless words had led Jackson to misunderstand again.

Jackson's next words confirmed his thoughts, his voice sounding careless but his heart in the eyes that were fixed on Mark's. "Do you have experience, hyung?"

Although Jackson had told Mark about how far he had gone with his previous girlfriends, he hadn't asked Mark if he had any prior relationships, assuming, Mark guessed, that he hadn't dated anyone before they met, and also not wanting to pry too overbearingly. But now, Jackson frowned a little despite trying to affect a nonchalant air, Mark's answer to his question obviously very important to him.

"No," Mark hastened to reassure him, the words tripping too fast off his tongue. "You're the first. The only." He blushed at his corny words but the way Jackson's face lit up with sheer relief, all his defenses down, was entirely worth the embarrassment.

"I meant experience from reading mangas," Mark muttered under his breath, looking away from Jackson's overly-delighted gaze. He felt embarrassed for both of them, how unable to control or hide their reactions from each other they were, but ecstatic at the same time, like he was soaring.

 

His eyes moved down to Jackson's hard dick tenting the front of his underwear. He couldn't wait to have it inside him.

Mark clapped his hand over his mouth when Jackson's widened eyes told him he had blurted that aloud. It was the most mortifying moment of his life, but then Jackson's deft fingers slipped under the waistband of his underwear, smooth and cool between the elastic and the feverish skin of his pelvis and Mark's mind short-circuited, his thoughts scattering.

"Mark hyung," Jackson breathed hushed as though his name was religious, holy, and Mark writhed silently as Jackson slid his underwear off, helping him shimmy out of it. He eased it over Mark's cock, which pointed up rigidly, an angry red with viscous precome dripping down the length. Jackson feasted his eyes on it, inhaling sharply and Mark's pelvic muscles tensed, flushing.

"Do you have... lube and condoms?" Jackson's voice was tight with urgency all of a sudden, and Mark frantically nodded vigorously, his jaw tight.

"In the drawer."

He closed his hand over his cock and gave it a few strokes, sighing blissfully at the scant relief it provided while Jackson was scrambling over on unsteady hands and knees to haul open Mark's drawer with a clatter. His items scattered over the floor as Jackson ransacked the drawer for the tube and box Mark had thought he had left right there. He had even opened the box of condoms and prepared one right on top of it. Finally, he sank back on Mark's thighs on his haunches, looking triumphant and afraid and excited and lustful all at once.

Mark swallowed, knowing the foreplay was over as in one swift motion, Jackson bit the corner of the condom packet and tore it open with his teeth, pulling his underwear down his thighs so brsuquely he almost ripped it and freeing his cock like he was in the toilet and bursting to pee. He didn't even look embarrassed when his cock sprang out, looking as ready to erupt as Mark's, just seriously trained his eyes on it as he rolled the condom over his length.

Mark had stopped breathing as Jackson finally moved his eyes back up to his face, his right hand still gripping his cock. He had stopped stroking himself but his hand was still loosely curled around his length too and it struck him as unintentionally hilarious that both their fingers were wrapped around their dicks as they stared at each other mutely, panicked and stricken, poised on the brink of losing their virginity to each other. It was like one of those awkward live-action movies that successful animes and mangas were turned into, such as _Junjou_ , which was one of his favourite yaois of all time. Somehow, everything seemed much more excruciatingly awkward in real life.

But he was relieved to see that both of their erections were still porcelain hard, Jackson groaning softly as he scooted up a little, weight comfortable on Mark's slightly spread upper thighs and their cocks brushed. Jackson reached out for Mark's cock, looking a little lost but Mark quickly stopped him by whispering, "Don't -- touch me."

Jackson looked confused and slightly hurt, stopping cold but Mark hastily clarified, "I'll... I'll come if you do." He tried to communicate how close he was to Jackson with his eyes and Jackson thankfully seemed to get it. He immediately reached for the tube of lotion he had tossed by their sides, murmuring understandingly, "Okay."

Mark pressed his own thumb against his slit and panted like a woman in the throes of labour as he watched Jackson squirting the lotion over his open palm. He pressed a little too hard and a large glob came out. "Oops."

The breathless, strangled laughter that burst forth when they met each other's eyes was thankfully able to hold his building orgasm at bay. Jackson looked adorably hesitant, almost clueless.

"Mark..." he muttered tentatively, sounding embarrassed to appear unsure instead of his usual confident self for once. "I'm kinda... new with this. You'll have to talk me through the steps."

Jackson's uncertainty and the fear of hurting Mark visceral in his eyes went straight to Mark's heart. "Don't worry," he immediately reassured the dear boy straddling him, eyes filled with concern, "It's not difficult and won't hurt that much. I'll guide you along."

 

Jackson melted into a smile of relief finally, and Mark softly instructed him to scoot off Mark's legs so he could raise his knees up in a V shape, spread his thighs wider and grab the pillow that wasn't behind his head to ease under his ass. He tried not to blush as he opened his legs, arching his bottom up to face Jackson's intense, scrutinizing eyes, the lube dripping from his slack fingers as he watched Mark.

Mark closed his eyes, too embarrassed to look at Jackson while he muttered almost inaudibly for him to put three fingers in, one by one. He hadn't done this before -- fingering himself, that is -- for some reason, although he had jerked off thinking about Jackson countless times. For some reason, he had thought he hadn't need practice before Jackson did it to him for the first time. But now, despite the number of mangas he had consumed, he felt unprepared for the invasive experience. He had washed himself with care before Jackson came, taken a shower, but he still felt embarrassed to ask Jackson to finger him _down there_.

His thoughts were violently cut short by Jackson's first finger easing between his ass cheeks, tentative, finding his hole and then circling the rim. Mark gasped with shock and the foreign sensation, and Jackson immediately stopped.

"Oh god, did I hurt you?"

"No!" Before he could withdraw, Mark's eyes flew open to look down the length of his body. It was a sight he had never imagined would be so... so breathtakingly lewd and filthy, Jackson with his large hand poised beneath Mark's ass, elbow bent and biceps rippling, one of his fingers Mark could feel ready to penetrate into his hole. He felt his cheeks tense up with anticipation and Jackson looked stricken as he felt the squeeze of his muscles too.

"I... I was just surprised. Go on. Please." His voice came out in a trembling, gasped plea.

Jackson's eyes darkened, and he said in a deeply soft voice, "Okay. Relax."

When Mark relaxed the muscles of his lower body, Jackson's index finger thrust up deep into his anus, breaching a tensed ring of muscles Mark hadn't realized was there without stopping. Mark gasped in agony, writhed at the feeling of Jackson's finger inside him into the hilt, so entirely that Mark could feel the webs between his fingers against the sensitive skin of his ass, his slippery knuckles grazing Mark's heated skin.

"Christ," Jackson breathed, then looked guilty, but his eyes were wide, pupils blown and Mark knew how he felt -- there was no other word capable of expressing how bizarre the situation felt -- but inexplicably, unexpectedly arousing at the same time. Jackson's hand shook, his arm looking painfully cramped but he didn't move. His breathing was harsh, his cock straining stiffly up. "Are you okay? Am I doing this right?"

"I... I think so," Mark choked out, barely managing coherence. He groaned, thrashed on Jackson's finger. It was an utterly different sensation writhing with Jackson's digit inside him and without. "Two more... please."

That was all he needed to say for Jackson to oblige. His third finger was just as chilly with the lube as his index, but it was longer and when he had fully eased it in beside the first, Mark was clawing at the sheets beside him and lifting his hips up with sheer lower body strength to give Jackson better access. It was an indescribable feeling. He felt the urge to move, like he was an inch away from something he didn't know but could feel -- and then Jackson sort of scissored his fingers, moved them experimentally apart, and Mark shouted.

His entire frame was racked with shudders as he came down from the peak he had shot to when Jackson's third finger grazed a spot inside him that was probably his prostate. Mark knew about the prostate gland -- of course he did, and the mangas had taught him about how pleasurable it was supposed to feel when fingered, but he had never expected how intense the ecstasy was. It was unimaginable.

 

Jackson was quiet, and Mark didn't know if he knew he had found his prostate too but he didn't need prompting from Mark to insert his fourth finger in beside the other two. He didn't scissor them again, seeming afraid to stretch Mark too much or roughly and hurt him. Shudders were still rippling through Mark's body and he hadn't come earlier, although it felt like he had, but more precome was beading visibly on his cock listing heavily towards his stomach and trickling with painful slowness down the length.

"Babe," Jackson said, voice husky. He pulled all three fingers out at once, making Mark inhale and clench, his hole twitching in surprise. Jackson's eyes travelled down to his hole which felt reddened and puckered and he blushed hotly. "Are you ready for me?"

Mark's eyes followed Jackson's right hand as he grabbed his own cock roughly again. He didn't even need to stroke it up to be hard enough for penetration because it was already at full hardness. Mark shifted his rear on the pillow, inner thighs feeling sticky and messy. Tears had escaped his eyes and were trickling from the corners down his temples, his bangs sticking to his forehead with the sheen of sweat he had worked out. "Yes. Now. Please."

Jackson moved forward clumsily and Mark wantonly spread his legs, ass dampening as he moved it down against the mess on the pillow. They both gasped sharply in tandem as the tip of Jackson's cock brushed for the first time against Mark's hole, which he was helping Jackson to find better by prising his ass cheeks apart with his fingers. It was the most awkward and bizarre scene ever, Jackson trying to fit his cock into Mark's lubed-up, loosened hole beneath his own standing cock but he was too wild with desire to even care or notice. He wanted Jackson in the worst way, deep inside him, right now.

They lost contact after the brush but Jackson quickly found the right alignment and guided his cock into Mark's hole, sliding in slowly. His length thinned momentarily after the wet knob of the tip, then gradually thickened again, the middle engorged and hard as a pole. Jackson braced one arm over Mark with his hand beside Mark's stomach while the other clutched the base of his cock, nails scraping the edges of Mark's stretched hole sensitively as he eased his cock in with difficulty.

"Holy shit," Jackson gasped, sounding undone. His voice was deeper than Mark had ever heard it, or maybe it was because it felt like it was vibrating from his cock. Jackson's cock throbbed hotly against his walls and he had no idea before that his anus was so sensitive, feeling like a bunch of pulsing nerve endings. "You're so tight."

Mark's fingers had left his ass cheeks and moved to clutch at Jackson's arm. "All the way," he gritted out, and felt the force of Jackson's obeying thrust jolt his whole body upwards, his head banging against the headboard accidentally.

"Oh my god." Jackson's hand rushed up to cradle his head, looking guilt-stricken, but all Mark could feel was the sensation of Jackson balls deep inside him, sheathed so completely to the hilt that Mark could feel his balls and damp pubic hair squelching against the skin of his ass. "I'm so sorry." Jackson swelled inside him, his face a stark red and sweat dripping off his temples to land on Mark's, hair matted messily to his forehead too.

Mark tenderly reached up to brush his bangs off, his hand shaking. Jackson's concerned eyes shone down at him, his body stiff and frozen, sweaty against Mark's. Mark made a mental note to switch the air-conditioner on the next time, he had completely forgotten in his rush and honestly had no idea that sex was such an... athletic activity.

"Did I hurt you?" Jackson asked, trembling above him with his pelvis tensed up, hipbones digging awkwardly into the backs of Mark's upper thighs which Jackson had pushed up so high his knees were almost folded to his armpits for better access. He tenderly skimmed the pads of his fingers over the drying tear tracks beside Mark's eyes.

Mark quickly shook his head honestly and smiled tremulously, shifting as he felt his cock pressing against Jackson's stomach, still leaking. He spread his thighs apart as far as they could go and carefully wrapped his calves around Jackson's toned back, the graceful arch of his spine tapering up into broad shoulders which Mark settled his hands on and fondled the tightly knotted muscles holding Jackson above him. He locked his ankles behind Jackson's tailbone and drew Jackson deeper in by loosening his muscles with a deep exhale.

"Find that spot again," he ordered shakily. "Make me come."

It was all he needed to say. Jackson pulled back a little, sliding halfway out and slammed back into him again, bottoming out. Mark cried out at Jackson's obedience -- he had found his prostate again on his first attempt.

"Again," he sobbed. "Again -- Again; Again," and then dissolved into incoherent and delirious moaning because Jackson had taken control and was shaking the bed, making his headboard bang the wall with every precise thrust, mounting in force and pacing.

 

"Gorgeous," he whispered, eyes dark and adoring, as close above Mark's as when they were kissing. One of his hands moved up to brush Mark's bangs away, so he could peer into his eyes better as he systematically demolished Mark's lower body with his pelvic strength.

He started growing bolder, thrusts growing sloppier as they both slipped out of control. Jackson pistoned in and out of Mark's ass with his solid cock, seeking delicious friction. He pulled out to the tip and then nudged in again, slow and then fast, making lewd squelching sounds between their slick skin. The passage of his cock into Mark's ass grew slicker with the precome oozing from Jackson's tip and collecting on his length as he slipped in and out, then more strenous as he thickened with desire when Mark clenched in an inadvertent contraction or tightened his thighs around his waist.

On one particularly excited thrust, Jackson slipped out totally, and his cock flopped uselessly to the side, unsuccessful in finding Mark's hole when he thrust again. He let out a frustrated grunt and a giggle slipped from Mark's mouth, his tension accidentally released in the form of mirth. Jackson's eyes glinted down at him with dark amusement too, seeming to find his entertainment endearing.

But then Mark felt the fingers of Jackson's right hand wind around his cock slowly, wrapping it in a tight grip while his left hand went down to grab his own cock again. His heart stopped. All traces of his laughter faded as his giggles turned into a moan of agony. His body seized up and bucked beneath Jackson's. Jackson poised his cock at Mark's entrance, parting his cheeks easily with his hardness, and sunk in, and Mark choked back a curse.

With his cock impaling Mark's body which was strung tight as strings stretched over a guitar, Jackson started moving his curled fingers up and down over Mark's precome-slick cock. Mark's cock throbbed, the double stimulation unbelievable, his sensations torn between Jackson's cock ripping his ass apart below and his hands working skilfully over Mark's cock, rubbing it to further hardness.

A little more precome shot out of his sore tip and Jackson's thumb found it, rubbing deliberately. He didn't continue thrusting, concentrating his efforts on stroking Mark off, seeming determined to destroy him into a screaming mess as Mark had ordered him to.

Sensing he was close, Jackson tightned his fingers and dipped the rough pad of his thumb into Mark's slit, digging his nail into it.

Mark finally came, in thick spurts which covered Jackson's hand the moment Jackson pulled his thumb off, his head rising off the pillow as he shouted through his long-delayed gratification.

"Fuck, Mark," Jackson gasped breathlessly when his protracted orgasm finally ended with both their stomachs sticky and white with his come. His dick was totally spent, flopping lifelessly against his stomach, but he was still breathing loudly through his mouth, entire body reeling. "That was so hot."

He felt Jackson's words as heat pooling in his gut, the way his length had swelled and thickened yet further inside Mark's ass from how arousing he had found Mark's orgasm and the way it made his muscles clench uncontrollably in spasms over the pillar of Jackson's cock.

When Mark could finally speak again he drew in a rattling breath and laid his trembling hand on Jackson's bicep which was shaking from the effort of bracing himself up and not collapsing his whole weight on Mark too. Mark clenched his cheeks over Jackson's length deliberately this time, sliding himself down a little on it to bottom himself out on Jackson's cock again, and Jackson closed his eyes and made a strangled noise.

Mark smiled and waited for him to open his eyes, feeling all the sensations of satiation suffusing his body with a warm glow and the tension of his ass still gripping Jackson's building release. When he did, Mark looked deep into his eyes and whispered huskily: "Don't stop."

Jackson's eyes glittered. Obediently, he pulled back and plunged in again, like a knife sinking effortlessly into butter. Mark raked his nails down Jackson's back and drove his pace higher with encouraging cries. "Jackson --" he gasped, the name pounded out of him by a brutal, aggravated thrust. Jackson slowed again, and Mark groaned, "No!" He reached down and grabbed his own cock, which was hard again, starting to stroke himself furiously.

Jackson picked up the pace again, reassured. His arms gave out a little, and Mark felt the breath knocked out of his lungs by the crushing weight. He murmured by Jackson's ear, making him shudder, spilling his load without warning deep inside Mark even as he instructed, tenderly,

"Don't stop till you come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly never expected the smut scene would turn out so long and explicit I AM SO SORRY ;; and i've been rushing out every chapter in a few hours literally unbetaed except for a quick once-over so there are probably some mistakes or awkward phrasing here and there which im thankful to my readers for overlooking!


	8. Chapter 8

22.

"Mr Tuan, you have a visitor."

It was his first year entering the working world after graduation and he was still not used to being addressed like an adult, but because of his prior award-winning work experience he had quickly become a well-known mangaka with a team of assistants working for him soon after he finished his degree in art.

Mina had moved back to Japan to work and live some time ago, having been invited to advance her career there after their successful collaboration. Mark, too, would have a place in the country anytime, and a ready career waiting for him with fans and readers if he had wanted to relocate.

But he chose to stay in Korea. It wasn't where he had been born, Seoul, but somehow -- maybe because it was home to all the people he loved most, his parents, brother, best friend, and boyfriend -- it now felt to him more homely than home.

Now, Mark replied his receptionist from his office and the desk he was working at -- neither of which he was used to having yet -- to send his visitor in.

 

Moments later, Jackson sauntered in with his hands in his pockets, looking smart in a casual blazer. "Wassup?"

Mark stood up, a mixture of excited, confused and stern. "Jacks, what are you doing here?" He checked his watch. "Aren't you supposed to be in school, babe?"

Jackson grinned at him, eyes softening at the pet name that flowed as easily from Mark's lips as his after two years. "Have you forgotten, ge?" He pouted in disappointment, and Mark floundered helplessly. "It's our hooky anniversary."

"Hooky anniversary?!" Mark echoed incredulously.

 

So it turned out, as Jackson explained on their way to the rock ledge, that their hooky anniversary wasn't annual, but once every two years because the second time they had gone there was two years after the first. "It's like the World Cup," he explained seriously, and Mark couldn't help but laugh at his boyfriend's antics, shaking his head. In truth, he was moved that Jackson had remembered the date.

As they strolled hand in hand, at a languid and easy pace towards the familiar, tree-shaded venue, Mark asked why Jackson was dressed so formally.

Jackson smiled enigmatically. "Just because. It's our anniversary."

Mark blushed at his sweet feline smirk. "You look good," he murmured, and Jackson's smile broadened.

"You look better," he bantered back smoothly. "The next time we come here, we'll both be ditching work."

Mark realized he was right. He liked Jackson's easy presumptuousness, that they would still be together two years on. Because of course they would.

 

After a while of lying beneath the pleasantly beating-down sun, Jackson casually started rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He had gallantly shrugged off the blazer earlier and folded it up for Mark to pillow his head on and now Mark turned on the soft material to watch the ripple of Jackson's upper arms. Maturity looked good on him.

Suddenly, he squeaked in surprise as Jackson rolled up the last inch, revealing what looked like inked words. "You got a tattoo?!"

Mark was blinking and rubbing his eyes, wondering if he saw wrongly. He had just seen Jackson shirtless the night before, when they had sex -- which meant Jackson had gotten it this morning. But it didn't look that new or red. Neither had Jackson mentioned wanting to get a tattoo, although Mark had gotten one the year before on the back of his calf which Jackson often kissed. He felt confused.

Jackson just smiled at him in amusement, looking unruffled. "You wanna see it?"

Mark nodded anxiously, and Jackson tried to push his sleeves up further but the buttons only went halfway up his lower arms and his biceps were too thick. He had to unbutton the whole shirt in the end.

Mark bit his lip as he shyly watched his boyfriend undress carelessly, shooting a possessive glance around although there was no one else in the vicinity. Jackson nearly ripped off a button by accident when he caught Mark biting his lip, and immediately tossed his shirt aside onto the grass and grabbed Mark into a meaningful, deep kiss. He almost pushed Mark down onto the grass, tackling him off balance, but Mark resisted, breaking off and holding him at arm's length with his hands on Jackson's shoulders.

"Wait," he gasped breathlessly, feeling disheveled and over-kissed. "Let me see your tattoo first."

Jackson smiled, but there was a hint of apprehension in it and Mark wondered why. "Okay," Jackson said simply, and unraveled his arm.

 

Mark gasped again, his heart fluttering out of his chest, all thoughts of the previous second's kiss leaving his mind blank at the words in italic inked black on Jackson's inner bicep.

_Will you marry me, Mark Tuan?_

"You -- my -- my name -- proposal --" Mark stammered incoherently for a minute before managing to formulate a comprehensible sentence as Jackson watched his expression with quiet amusement and something watchful. "You tattooed a proposal on your arm?" He finally spat out hoarsely.

"Is that a yes?" Jackson asked, a note of teasing in his silky voice.

"No, wait -- I mean yes, but --" Mark stopped his runaway tongue, noticing he was making Jackson look a little hurt and uncertain with his confusing answer.

"It is. The answer, I mean. Yes. I will marry you, Jackson Wang."

He threw his arms around Jackson's neck, feeling his heartbeat from the bare skin of his chest through the thin fabric of his own summer suit. He was so happy, so, so happy, despite the initial shock and alarm. Jackson had outdone himself again in yet another sweeping romantic gesture that swept Mark off his feet.

Mark couldn't believe Jackson had proposed to him. Jackson Wang, the most beautiful and big-hearted man on Earth wanted to marry him. What had Mark done to get so lucky? He heard Jackson's laugh of pure delight chiming by his ear. "And no, ge, it's not real. It's a sticker."

Mark pulled away in outrage, taken by surprise again. "It's not?!" He sounded dismayed for some reason.

Jackson laughed, looking like it was the best day of his life. "Do you want it to be?"

"No!" Mark flung his arms around him again in a smothering bear hug, not even letting Jackson dress. This time, it was him who tackled his mischievous lover down to punish him for his playful prank.

 

"Do you remember the first time we came here?" Jackson asked in a dreamy voice when they were lying in each other's arms, sharing the pillow of Jackson's blazer, blissfully worn out from kissing.

Mark nodded, their hair catching together. He smiled at the memory of them, so young and awkward back then but already knowing there was something special between them, feeling that spark of something in their hearts.

"I was already in love with you back then," Jackson revealed, with his signature candour.

Mark turned to stare at him, not wanting to miss how he looked as he continued.

"I was head over heels nursing a gay crush on you, and wondering -- was there a possibility my first love wouldn't end in total heartbreak and devastation? Wondering... how long it would be, until you looked my way?"

His words caught in Mark's heart. He blinked, eyes suddenly misty.

He didn't know what to say, what would be large enough to answer Jackson's enormous statement.

After a few moments of pensive thought and recollection, he asked quietly:

"Do you remember on that day, you asked me..."

> "Do you ever feel," he mused softly, eyes clouded, "alone, even when you're surrounded by people?"
> 
> Mark squinted at him, even though he wasn't looking at the sun. He thought about Jackson's question. Somehow, he understood the feeling. He had many people who cared for him, and whom he cared for. But had he ever really felt truly close to anyone... besides... except...

"Until..." Mark blurted out, turning to look at Jackson and finally completing his unfinished thought four years later. It had taken him four years to admit the answer aloud, but on that first day, he had already known it inside his heart, where Jackson had made a home for himself from day one.

 

Jackson's eyes were clouded with emotion at Mark's clumsy confession. He looked like Mark had just given him the whole world. And maybe he had. Because Jackson often said that Mark was his entire world. And Mark had given himself to him long ago.

It was as natural and unawkward as taking the next breath when Jackson reached into his pocket and took out a small navy velvet box. He popped it open to reveal two exquisite blue-silver rings.

"It's custom-made from an alloy of cobalt and silver," he explained, smiling, and handed Mark one of them. Mark held his breath as he carefully tilted the delicate ring to the light to read the engraved letters on the inside rim.

There were only four simple numbers. _1314._

 _Yi sheng yi shi_ , in Chinese. Meaning _one lifetime, one world_.

"Yi-en," Jackson murmured in his fluid, charismatic Mandarin. " _Ni yuan yi he wo yi qi guo jian dan ping fan de sheng huo ma?_ " _Will you live a simple, average life together with me?_

Mark smiled, the answer ready on his lips at the same time he slipped Jackson's ring onto his fourth finger.

" _Wo yuan yi_."

 

24.

They were moving in together, their promise rings flashing from sapphire to silver in the sunlight bouncing off them as Jackson helped Mark carry his boxes into their new apartment.

They bought it together, with Mark's now-steady earnings as a reputable mangaka known in not only Korea and Japan but as far as his homeland of Taiwan and Los Angeles, where he was born. Jackson had insisted on paying half the price and so they had patiently waited for him to accumulate enough savings in his job as a Korean-English-Mandarin translator.

Both of them had jobs that entailed traveling often, and could have chosen to base their home anywhere. Japan, Korean, America. The possibilities were endless, each one dazzling. But only because Jackson was beside him.

And so they had decided to stay in the home where their families and friends were. On days like this one, when Mark was unpacking boxes of his old teenagehood belongings, the future looked like a blank sheet of paper spread ahead of them, ready for creation.

He felt somewhat nostalgic when he came across a copy of the photograph his brother and Jaebum sent them in an envelope a couple of years ago. It was of the four of them at the school festival, taken the first year they had met. Mark ran his thumb over the thumbnail of sixteen-year-old Jackson's face, the unshadowed, brilliant smile Mark had fallen for.

"What's that?" Jackson walked up behind him, then stopped and put down the trophy he was dusting, one of Mark's many, to study the picture more carefully. He laughed at the peace signs they were flashing in the picture, their carefree, high school smiles. "Man, we were such dorks back then." He shook his head and dropped a kiss on the nape of Mark's neck, returning to his dusting. Mark smiled and started looking for a picture frame to place the photograph in.

 

Jackson moved on with his work efficiently, seeming unaffected by the sight of seventeen-year-old Mark, and Mark knew it was because Jackson still saw him as he was at seventeen, even when he was twenty-four. In a way, he did too. High school and college had flown by in the blink of an eye, although when they were inside those years they seemed to pass slow as molasses.

Mark couldn't believe how much he had changed, and how much mild, mousy him had managed to accomplish since then. He had not only achieved his dream, but also found his home. The boy who had been beside him every step of the way had become his home, simply, naturally and unobtrusively. As easily as drawing in the next breath.

Jackson was all grown up now, an adult, and making Mark so much prouder than he'd ever expected to be. He was strong and steady and reliable like a rock or a boulder, like Mark's safe harbour. He couldn't believe he'd been one of the lucky ones to have such a pure, beautiful and lasting first love, to be still together with his high school sweetheart, seven years and counting.

 

31.

Sometimes when he slept beside Jackson in their king-sized bed Mark dreamt of alternate realities, of manga-like universes in which he could have met Jackson, each seeming as real as the one they lived in.

In one, they met at the age of seven and grew up together through thick and thin, separations and reunions, across continents and oceans before realizing they were meant to be at twenty-seven. In another, Jackson was a fencer and Mark was a rich CEO playboy, breaking hearts left and right before he met Jackson and settled down.

In the third, he was a scientist and Jackson the android he constructed in the image of his old lover, in a tragic love story more star-crossed than Romeo and Juliet. Then they were in a Korean boyband, still boys, still forbidden to be together, still desperately in love.

His favourite was the one that wasn't much different from their real story, where they were in another high school, in his native country of Taiwan. He was Jackson's _xuezhang_ , his Yi-en ge, mysterious and enigmatic and dashing, sweeping Jackson off his feet.

All the universes were tantalizing. But when Mark opened his eyes, he was still relieved to find himself in the one he woke up in -- with Jackson's bed-head tousled adorably next to him and his arms flung sloppy and possessive over Mark, their bare bodies hopelessly intertwined. Because Mark's current reality, was way better than any dream.

 

 _It's been a full life,_ Mark thought, fulfilling, colourful, better than anything he could have imagined in his wildest dreams. And he owed it all to the artist of his life -- not him but the boy who had splashed into his life at seventeen in a palette of rainbow shades and since then Mark's monochrome existence was never the same again.

Jackson brought out the best and bravest side within him every day, and today was no exception. And at the age of thirty-one, maybe there was only one more thing missing.

Mark got up early and crept out of bed to prepare Jackson's thirtieth birthday present. Since his nineteenth birthday when Mark had literally given himself to Jackson as a present, Jackson greedily demanded the same present every year -- he even specifically requested Mark to tie himself up in a huge gaudy gift bow, naked of course, so Jackson could have the pleasure of slowly unwrapping him. Blushing, Mark shouted that the older Jackson got, the more lecherous he became and Jackson leered without shame, _Only towards you, gege_. He blinked innocently when he called Mark that, looking like he deserved a halo.

Today, of course Mark wouldn't be able to deny his advances -- he could never say no to his husband, any day of the year. But he had an extra surprise planned for Jackson. He smiled as he nestled back into the folded back covers, tucked them back over both their shoulders and curled up behind Jackson as the big spoon for once. Jackson was so huggable and little spoon material but he always liked to act like he wore the pants in their relationship and insisted on spooning Mark.

Jackson's eyes fluttered open, a few minutes later, and Mark was ready with his present. He was glad he had brushed his teeth before sneaking back to bed because Jackson immediately squealed in glee and gave him a big old good morning slash happy birthday slash thank you kiss.

"Is this us?" He pointed to the two adult men in the anime-style sketch with wide eyes. Mark smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I thought so... but who are these?" Jackson's brow creased slightly at the two much tinier _chibi_ s, one climbing mischievously over Jackson's shoulder, the other dangling from Mark's hand. "They look familiar." He squinted and Mark smiled, having drawn them with a mixture of the two of their features.

"Our children," Mark said calmly, and Jackson shot out of bed like a bullet.

" _Children?_ " he echoed as if the thought had never occurred to him before.

But within five minutes, the tables were turned and he was singlehandedly trying to convince Mark to let them start the process of adopting not just one but two kids at once. "We're not getting any younger, after all! I've already hit the big three-zero!" Jackson exclaimed, sounding comically anxious.

"Even if I agree, it would be impossible to do it here," Mark sighed dismally, meaning in Korea.

But Jackson just flashed his easy and determined grin. " _Impossible_ isn't a word in my vocabulary. When there's a will, there's a way."

"I know," Mark smiled fondly, shaking his head with tender affection. He wasn't that surprised by Jackson's reaction, knowing him well enough after all to guess beforehand what ideas he would be putting into Jackson's head with this present, and going ahead anyway.

 

He blinked back to reality to see Jackson carefully tucking the rough sketch into a folder. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously, not unpleased to see Jackson handling his work with such delicacy.

Jackson looked up and flashed his up-to-no-good grin, eyes crinkling irresistibly.

"I'm going to tattoo this picture on my bicep, to show our kids when they grow up and tell them about the day we decided to adopt them."

Mark fell off the bed.

 

71.

Forever was a long time. But it wasn't long enough for Jackson and Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy v day to all the readers of this fic!!! i hope this last chapter provides a fix of sappy cheese to start the day off with pleasant feelings for you :3 this is dedicated to every single reader who commented on chapters 3 to 7, even those who just commented once to let me know you're following new updates of this fic! as well as every single supportive reader who kindly left me kudos. and of course to those who commented on 1 and 2 as well, whom im so sorry i never replied your comments but i did read all of them :(
> 
> if you chuckled imagining markson at 71, you're not alone lol i know its awkward to write them till that age but i just thought it would be neat to end with 71 when i started at 17, in parallel to unless where i started at 13 and ended at 31 if you noticed :) im lame that way lmao and i just had to point it out although most readers probably noticed by themselves because im captain obvious. i was so happy to finally be able to write the last two sentences because ngl i had it in my mind since the first chapter last year, and i thought i'd never be able to use it because i didnt think i'd finish this fic so i even adapted a similar version of the lines to use in my other fic YTSTMD lol.
> 
> the proposal two years later at their couple spot was inspired by an idea suggested by vipahgase, which inspired me a lot! so thank you for that and being one of my favourite readers on this fic too bb :')
> 
> this fic got a lot longer than i or i think any readers expected, and had a much more intensive update schedule (which also flooded my subscribers besides those of this fic im so srry) so i really wanted to thank all the readers for being so sporting to not only not mind the almost daily notifications for the chapters i was churning out so fast, but also reading them with such avid interest and passion for this verse and its characters ;; this verse really grew on me ngl from something that i didnt feel connected enough to to have the confidence to continue for nearly six months, to an AU world that i can picture vividly in my head and hopefully conjure up for readers a little of my image with my descriptions too.
> 
> just like the commenters-turned-friends i never expected to meet and receive love from in this verse, these characters and their relationships surprised me with how attached and emotionally invested i grew in them too ;u; saying goodbye to a verse is always difficult because i feel like i've made friends with the characters and they've been in my life, speaking to me through the process of writing, but i know my other friends, the real friends i made in the journey of writing a chaptered fic are the friendships that ultimately mean the most and will stay after the story ends :) thank you for being here, taking the hours to join me in this universe, no matter how brief your stay was, and even if it's in the future.
> 
> just like i said in the notes of my other fics, its the readers whom i interact with and who give me warmth and ideas and encouragement for the fic during the process that breathe life into the fic and characters, and not me as the writer :) if i had written this alone i know for a fact it would have been far flatter. i have written lengthy fics of a similar length to this alone before, at one shot by myself without splitting into chapters like lagoon, and having had the chance to compare the processes i can say for sure that this is a far more enriching and companionable, not to mention fun, one.
> 
> seeing how many readers have so kindly taken interest in this verse, and since i think many people who read unless also read this, i wanted to pimp out another fanart for lagoon drawn by an extremely talented and lovely friend of mine last year. i also recced it on patisserie before so people who read that fic might have already seen it but i don't think many jjp fans read it so i wanted to link it here again. the artist actually put 8 hours of hard work into it just for me and my fic so if you like this gorgeous [fanart](http://eksofora.tumblr.com/post/141751544566/all-he-thinks-is-that-this-tall-swarthy-guy) please support her by dropping her a like or reblog! thank you :)
> 
> last but not least, does anyone else besides me find it amusing that my other series, lapis lazuli, was a 10k markson original story that spawned a 38k jjp side story; while in unless, the jjp part was 11k and inspired this 45k spinoff? haha i thought it was kinda cool or maybe im just easily entertained


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